It's Dark Inside
by FictionalNutter
Summary: Post Season 9 AU. At first, neither Sam nor Dean really grasp everything Dean's new demon nature means. With Crowley actually invested in Dean and Castiel trying to balance his presence on Earth and in Heaven, not to mention a few surprises that Sam has to deal with, the latest development in their lives may end up being a lot more complicated than they expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**So, last year, after Sacrifice aired, I wrote a little fic (well, 103k words, but who's counting) called You Fall In Flame that I ended up being very proud of, and it was very therapeutic for the time that nothing was on air. So, given some encouragement from the good people of Tumblr, I've decided to do it again this year.**

**YFIF was being largely influenced by the song Stars from the musical Les Miserables, and I thought it would be good to do the same this year. I've chosen the Imagine Dragons song Demons. I was going to use Monster, but I feel it applies more to Sam than it does to Dean, and Demons followed the theme I wanted to adhere to more closely.**

**So, without further ado, I present It's Dark Inside, a post-season 9 AU.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - When The Days Are Cold**

Sam was pacing the small room by the time Crowley actually showed up, looking very irritated.

"I was busy, Moose," he growled.

"Dean is dead," Sam snapped at him, his tone torn between anger and grief. "This is your fault; you're the one who convinced him to use the damn thing."

"I know he's dead," Crowley informed him, rolling his eyes. "What do you think I was busy with?"

Sam's focus moved instantly to Crowley's eyes, searching for answers. "What does that mean? What did you do?"

Crowley shrugged. "I didn't have to do anything. I was merely exploring a theory. Are we done here?"

"No, we're not done here!" Sam told him incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. "I've always preferred to show than tell, personally." With that, he vanished.

Sam allowed his irritation with Crowley to drift away as he started to grow more and more concerned about what the demon might have meant. Suddenly worried that something might have happened to his brother's body, Sam bolted out of the room and down the hall, eager to reach Dean's bedroom and make sure nothing was amiss.

Whatever Sam had been expecting, seeing Dean sitting upright in bed with an expression of bewilderment wasn't it. Before Sam could even voice his surprise, however, he lost all his words at the sight of Dean's eyes.

Black. Flat black. Demon black.

"Sam?" Dean's gruff voice sounded like he'd been gargling gravel, but he didn't sound nearly concerned enough for the situation, so maybe he just hadn't noticed yet.

Sam realized he was frozen in the doorway so he forced himself into the room. "Oh my god, Dean, are you okay?" It felt like a stupid thing to ask, but Sam was feeling a little out of his depth at the moment.

"I feel groggy," Dean admitted, "and a little achy, but otherwise I feel a lot better than I did this morning. What happened?"

"Uh..." Sam trailed off, not sure what to do. Half of him wanted to hug Dean, thrilled that somehow he was alive, but the rest of him was too freaked out by the eyes to think straight.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he examined Sam. "What happened?" He asked again, more insistent. "You're worrying me, here."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sam finally asked. It seemed like a safe enough question.

Dean's brow furrowed with concentration. "I'm not sure." He held up a finger to stop Sam from commenting. "Give me a sec." After a pause, he nodded slowly and winced. "I knocked you out and went after Metatron."

Sam scowled at him briefly. "Yeah, you did. Is that the last thing you remember? Nothing after you left to go find Metatron?"

"I don't think so. Flashes of fighting him, maybe, but that's pretty much it. What happened, man? You look really freaked." Dean peered at him, another expression that was tainted by the black eyes.

"Dean...Metatron stabbed you in the chest," Sam told him gently, watching his newly resurrected brother warily. It probably said something disturbing about their lives that he wasn't more freaked out about the resurrection part.

Dean's hand flew to his chest, only to find no wound. "And yet I'm sitting here talking to you with baby smooth skin, so what aren't you telling me?"

Breathing out tiredly, Sam stepped back and indicated the mirror on Dean's dresser with his finger. "Until like ten minutes ago, I thought you were dead. There's something you need to see, and it's probably going to be a pretty big clue in the whole coming back to life thing."

Warily, Dean stood and moved towards the mirror. He slowly picked it up and stared at his reflection. There was a very brief moment where Sam thought his brother wouldn't react, then the mirror slipped from his fingers and clattered noisily on the ground, the metal backing preventing it from shattering.

Sam moved forward as soon as he realized Dean had stopped breathing, tugging his brother back towards the bed and snapping his fingers in front of the jet black eyes a few times. "Dean, hey, Dean! Snap out of it!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Dean shook his head violently, shoving away from Sam and stalking towards the wall. "No, stay away from me. What the hell happened to me, Sam? Why the hell are my eyes black?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. Crowley might, though. When I summoned him, he told me he already knew you were dead and gave me some enigmatic crap about 'exploring an idea,' then he took off again. I was worried, so I came back here, and you were sitting upright and breathing. I'd barely even had time to process that you were dead again." He paused, then admitted, "I might be in shock."

"What the hell were you doing summoning Crowley?" Dean demanded.

"What do you think I was doing?" Sam asked him, irritated. "It's his fault you had the damn mark and blade in the first place, and I was going to make him do something about it."

Dean's eyes flashed back to normally almost instantly, and his expression became mildly confused. "What happened to you not saving me?" He questioned.

Sam was looking at the door, and he shook his head. "That's not what I said, Dean. I never said I wouldn't try to save you, I said-" He cut off, glancing back to see Dean's eyes were back to normal. "Dude, they're normal again!"

Distracted, Dean moved forward to snatch the mirror off the floor, double checking. "Oh thank God," he breathed. "Am I okay then?"

"Not the person to ask," Sam reminded him. "We need to find your demon boyfriend again."

Dean scowled at him. "Not funny."

"Hey, I don't have to burn your body tonight," Sam reminded him. "Let me celebrate how I want."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Finish your sentence," he insisted.

"What sentence?" Sam sighed.

"What did you say? Cause I heard pretty loud and clear that you wouldn't have tried to save me." Dean folded his arms and looked at his younger brother expectantly.

"You said that if the roles had been reversed, that I would have done the same thing," Sam reminded him. "I wouldn't have. Not even close. That doesn't mean I wouldn't have fought like hell and done whatever I could've to save your life, but I would never have brought you back against your will by tricking you into accepting possession, Dean. That's what I said. When I told you before that we could be partners, but brothers was a whole different issue? That wasn't because I stopped caring about you." Sam rolled his eyes, like it was a stupid notion to even suggest. "You're always going to be my brother, and I'm always going to have your back, but that doesn't mean I didn't come out of the whole Gadreel incident with some serious trust issues, man." Sam breathed out and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking a lot more tired than he had a few moments earlier. "

Dean nodded slowly, following Sam's train of thought, and wincing slightly at the reminder of the lie he'd told to save his brother's life. "I'm sorry I lied to you," he offered. "I can't be sorry I saved your life though."

"I can live with that," Sam shrugged. "It's a start, at least. We'll fix everything one problem at a time."

"How heart warming," Crowley gripped from the doorway, startling both brothers. "I thought I'd have gotten a phone call by now, but no, Moose and Squirrel need to have a heart to heart first." He rolled his eyes and made a tsking noise.

Dean's eyes immediately flashed flat black again, and his pose became defensive. "What the hell is going on, Crowley?"

Sam started when he saw Dean's eyes shift back, and he turned to Crowley for answers. "You know what's going on with him, don't you? Why he's alive and why his eyes look like that?"

"It isn't just his eyes," Crowley scoffed. "Big bad hunter Dean Winchester is officially a demon. Full blooded, real deal." He tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

Dean stared at him for a moment, too in shock to really process that revelation. "No way," he finally insisted. "No way in Hell!"

"Funny you should phrase it that way," Crowley smirked.

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam shot at him. "Dean, calm down."

"What the hell do you mean calm down?" Dean whirled on him, furious. "My eyes aren't just black, Sam, I'm a demon! What happens now?"

"We find a way to fix it," Sam said firmly.

"You can't," Crowley said, his tone bored.

Sam scowled at him. "Why the hell not?"

"Because now that he's a demon, the mark isn't going to kill him if he decided not to go on a killing spree," Crowley pointed out, exasperated. "Cain lived for years without touching the blade, remember? He's a decent chap, too, little overbearing perhaps, but then, you were never the cuddly type to begin with."

Dean moaned and sat down heavily on the bed next to Sam. "My head hurts," he muttered.

"The mark was going to kill you?" Sam asked softly.

"Mmmm," Dean murmured noncommittally. "I found out before I went after Metatron. Not killing made me feel like I was dying. Eventually I would have. Crowley said something about Cain being a demon making him strong enough not to kill, I guess."

"Yes, standing right here," Crowley reminded them. "You'll be fine. Might need a bit of training in using your demon skills, but hey, that's why you've got me on a speed dial."

Sam raised an eyebrow at the newly restored king of hell. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Lots of things," Crowley acknowledged. "Dean really will be fine though, that's true. Less darkside than he was before, if you can believe that. This transformation isn't going to automatically make him the physical embodiment of evil, and the mark is going to affect him a lot less. There's a learning curve, and I'm not planning to run out on him, so really, this shouldn't be very concerning."

Dean raised his head to squint at Crowley, eyes still black. "Why do you care?" He asked, perplexed.

"Because for some bizarre reason I actually like you two morons, and Moose over here gave me enough human insight to force me to care about your well being." Crowley huffed and rolled his eyes again. "I'm not exactly happy about it, but I'm invested in your health and well being."

"That's so weird," Sam muttered, shaking his head.

"I'm the one who has to keep their affinity for the two most notorious hunters in the continental United States under wraps or risk losing a kingdom," Crowley snarked at him.

Dean raised his head and smirked. "Only the continental US? What, are there some epic badasses in Alaska or Hawaii we don't know about?"

Crowley sighed and turned away. "I don't know why I bother." With that, he vanished.

"I need beer," Dean announced, standing and striding towards the door. "C'mon."

"Why?" Sam asked, curious as he followed his brother out of the room.

"Because I don't actually need it," Dean admitted, his black eyes shifting, "and I'm curious if I can make myself need it if I drink enough."

"That sounds healthy," Sam muttered.

"Does alcohol kill demons?" Dean shot back at him.

Sam shook his head. "Not that I know of, and let's give it a day or so before we start casually joking about this, okay? I plan to do a hell of a lot of research into how to manage this new version of you."

"I figured we'd just have you cure me," Dean said, surprised. "Since, you know, we can do that now?"

Sam moved forward and tapped the mark on Dean's arm as he passed him into the kitchen. "Can't. Apparently, being a demon is going to let you stay alive without turning into a mass murderer. If that's how it has to be, we're going to know as much about how to handle this as possible."

Dean's eyes snapped back to green, reflecting his disappointment. "So this is really me now?" He asked quietly.

"Hey," Sam said, catching his attention. "There's a lot we're going to have to learn. But for right now? You seem pretty normal to me. We'll figure out all the hell stuff later."

"Together," Dean emphasized, relaxing as Sam nodded his agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**I feel like it took me forever to get back to this, even though its only been a few days! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. I have some very specific plans for this fic, so I'm glad I've already got some of you following along!**

**Thanks to MAo, Altamiya, RoverGirl, AmySPNfic, SPN Mum, and annburgum for their reviews on chapter 1!**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - And The Cards All Fold**

Sam eyed Dean warily as he gulped down a beer, his eyes flashing back to demon black as he finished it.

"I don't feel anything," he griped, scowling at the bottle like it had offended him.

"Dean, you haven't been able to get a buzz off a single beer since you were a teenager," Sam reminded him, feeling uncomfortable now that Dean's eyes were black again. "Don't give up just yet."

Dean smirked. "You encouraging me to get drunk, Sammy? That's gotta be a first."

Sam rolled his eyes, then felt his amusement fade as he stared at his brother cracking open a second beer. Only an hour ago he'd believed that he'd once again lost Dean, only to have him back before he could really even think about what to do next. The whiplash was dizzying, and left Sam with conflicting feelings of grief and relief that he couldn't reconcile.

Putting the beer down, Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "What's that face for?"

"What face?" Sam protested automatically, not aware that he'd even been making a face.

Dean pointed at him with a raised eyebrow. "The face that says you've been thinking too hard about something you don't like."

"Nothing," Sam replied with a sigh. When Dean gave him a very pointed look, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Look, it's just that half of me is still trying to catch up to the fact that you aren't dead anymore. I mean, I didn't even have time to process that you were gone again before you were back. It's just a little disorienting."

Nodding slowly, Dean looked him over for a minute before his eyes snapped to normal again and he stood, gesturing to Sam. "Come here."

"What for?" Sam asked cautiously, giving his brother a suspicious look.

Dean ignored him and pulled Sam into a hug, holding tightly until Sam slowly got with the program and tightened his arms around his older brother. "I'm back, Sammy. Really here, and not going anywhere. We're going to be okay."

Sam nodded against his brother's shoulder and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"All right, back to the task at hand." Dean moved back to the table and snatched his beer up. "If I can get drunk, I'm going to."

Sam cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times, trying to chase back some of the unexpected emotions that were plaguing him. "Okay, well, while you do that I'm going to try and get a hold of Cas."

Dean froze with the beer halfway to his mouth. "Have you heard from him? Is he okay?"

"Not since we made the plan and he and Gadreel left for Heaven," Sam admitted. "I was a little preoccupied with you dying in my arms. Again."

Dean winced. "Sorry about that."

"Uh-huh." Sam cleared his throat again and shook his head. "Anyway, they must have done something, because I saw Metatron flinch like something had gone wrong. I was about to stab him when he vanished, so I'm assuming he went back to Heaven."

"So call him and find out," Dean urged, looking expectant.

"I don't even know if he had his phone on him," Sam admitted as he pulled out his cell. He sighed and hit the speed dial, lifting the phone up and waiting for it to connect.

* * *

"Hannah, we need to form a legitimate plan," Castiel attempted to explain, looking pleadingly at the angel who had helped him turn the tide in the battle with Metatron. Now that the scribe of Heaven was locked away, Hannah's support had helped the other angels move to give their support to Castiel as well, which he wasn't sure he wanted.

"We have a plan," Hannah replied calmly. "You will be our new leader." She seemed perfectly content with this solution.

"That is not a plan," Castiel argued. "That is an idea that has been proven foolish on several occasions."

"The past does not define you, Castiel," Hannah chastised him lightly. "You are more than capable."

"While I appreciate the concept," Castiel conceded, "I still think there is a better alternative."

Hannah gave him an exasperated look. "Well, while you think of alternatives, will you at least be our interim leader? Surely it cannot be too terrible to lead us until you find an acceptable substitute?"

Castiel debated the idea for a moment before nodding with a sigh. "That does seem a wise choice," he reluctantly agreed.

"Good, then we have already made progress. Now, perhaps you can tell me what is distracting you?" Hannah asked, eyebrow raised.

Castiel looked up in surprise. "How did you know I was distracted? I thought I was managing to keep my focus reasonably well."

"I am observant, Castiel," Hannah said gently. "What is it?"

Castiel sighed. "I need to call Sam," he admitted.

Hannah frowned. "Why?"

Hesitating, it took Castiel a moment to reply. "Metatron...he told me Dean was dead."

"Oh, Castiel, I am so sorry." Hannah lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, her expression sorrowful.

Surprised, Castiel raised his head to meet her gaze. "Why? You yourself asked me to kill him before you all left to join Metatron."

Hannah immediately looked regretful. "I cannot say I particularly like the man, but he was important to you, and I am sorry for your sake that he is gone."

"Thank you," Castiel replied, grateful. "As you are supporting me, I believe Sam will need my support. Is there anything that must be accomplished with any immediacy here in Heaven, or can I be spared for a few hours?"

"We will be all right, Castiel," Hannah assured him. "I will organize what I can to help make this transition easier when you return."

"Thank you," Castiel said again, before he vanished. He appeared inside the bunker, in the main entry by the library. As he did so, the forgotten cell phone in his pocket began to ring. He rarely used it, so the noise startled him. He flipped it open cautiously. "Hello?"

"Cas? Thank God! We didn't know what happened." Sam's voice sounded relieved, and something in the background made a noise in response.

"Sam, yes, we defeated Metatron. He is now in Heaven's dungeons. Hannah wants me to be in charge, so we shall see what happens next. How are you? I just returned, I am in your library." Castiel explained himself as quickly as possible, wanting to know what had happened on Earth.

"Wait, you're here?" Sam asked, surprised. "Hang on, we'll be right there."

"We?" Castiel asked warily, but Sam had already hung up. That was concerning. If Dean was dead, who was with Sam? If he wasn't dead, had Metatron lied, or had Sam done something foolish?

Footsteps behind him caused Castiel to turn. He saw Sam entire the room first, the tall hunter seeming to relax as he saw that Castiel was indeed in one piece. The concern Sam clearly held for him pleased Castiel, and he returned the younger Winchester's smile in greeting. Then, he saw Dean. Immediately his expression faded to one of shock. "Dean?" He questioned softly.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean greeted him easily. "Made it out of Heaven in one piece, huh? Congrats!"

Still not sure how to react, Castiel settled for moving forward and pulling Dean into a hug.

"Uh..." Dean floundered for a second, tentatively hugging the angel back. "You all right, Cas?"

"Metatron told me you were dead," Castiel informed him in response, tightening his hold.

"Oh." Dean tightened his grip in response, understanding now. "Yeah, apparently I was. Didn't take."

Castiel slowly pulled back, concern reappearing on his face. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"We can talk about it later," Dean dismissed, shifting slightly. "Since when are you a hugger?"

"I learned from Sam that hugs are a good way to express emotion you cannot verbalize," Castiel informed him gravely.

Dean shot Sam a look, and the younger hunter smirked. "Yeah, I can probably take the blame for that."

"What happened, Dean?" Castiel insisted. "I am grateful that you are not dead, but I need to know what happened."

"Well..." Dean trailed off, looking helplessly at Sam. "I'm not really sure how to tell you this."

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, but mouthed, "You have to tell him!"

"I..." Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair, then closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he opened them, revealing the new black that exposed his demon nature.

Castiel visibly started, but did not back away like Dean had been expecting. "How?" He asked, surprise and a kind of fascinated horror mixing in his voice.

"I'm not totally clear on that," Dean admitted. "Crowley kind of made it sound like it was the mark's fault, except that now the mark isn't killing me like it was before, so theoretically now that I'm a demon, I'm less of a homicidal maniac."

Castiel paused and glanced at Sam, who shrugged helplessly. "We met in my endeavor to save you from this fate," the angel murmured softly, his tone almost defeated.

"Hey, Cas," Dean called for his attention, managing to get his eyes back to normal in the process. "This is on me, okay? As far as I'm concerned, you did save me. This is because I decided I needed to be the one to take on Abaddon. I succeeded, but I didn't think about the cost. If I didn't turn into a demon, then I would have either died from the mark or eventually snapped and killed everyone in my path, probably including you and Sam. I'm sure as hell not happy to be a demon, but frankly, I'm thinking things could be a lot worse."

Castiel slowly nodded, taking in the explanation. "I suppose this will be an adjustment for all three of us," he mused. "How do you intend to hunt, now that so many of your tools can do you irreparable damage?"

"Very carefully," Dean shot back dryly.

"There will be no hiding what you are from other demons and angels," Castiel warned him. "I can see your new true face, even know. Oddly, you are not entirely repulsive for a demon. Perhaps that is due to the form of your transition."

"Uh...thanks?" Dean attempted, not entirely sure the comment was a compliment.

"You are welcome," Castiel replied, unperturbed. "Can you see me, now?" He asked curiously.

As soon as he was asked, Dean became aware that if he really focused, there was suddenly a lot more of Castiel to see. He had been seeing the human vessel because that was what he expected and wanted to see, but as soon as he was reminded of his new potential, he became aware of the weak ebb and flow of the grace within Castiel. It seemed to have some limit, which Dean instinctively knew was not as it should be. "I can see that your grace is weakening."

"Yes, well, that is a problem for another time," Castiel dismissed.

"Cas, that's not nothing," Sam interjected. "What will happen when the stolen grace runs out?"

"I will burn out," Castiel admitted.

"I'm not letting you die _again_," Dean emphasized. "What are we going to do to fix this?"

"Dean, worry about your new nature first," Castiel told him. "I will worry about my grace."

Dean gave Castiel a look that clearly indicated the conversation wasn't over, but he was dropping it for now. "I say we have a celebratory dinner, since we're all alive and everything, play a round of poker to relax, and then we figure out what happens next."

"Not all of us," Castiel said mournfully.

"What?" Dean demanded, startled. "Who died?"

"Gadreel," Sam realized, eyes filled with sudden understanding.

Castiel nodded. "He sacrificed himself to give me the chance to defeat Metatron."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, aware from Castiel's tone that he considered the death of the angel a great loss, though they both still had some very mixed feelings towards the angel.

"Well," Sam finally said, "at least he died doing the right thing."

"Indeed," Castiel agreed. "I believe that is how he wanted to be remembered, rather than for his previous indiscretions."

"I'll try," Sam told him, nodding when Castiel gave him a grateful look.

Dean's eyes flashed black for a brief moment, then back to normal. "I'll think about. I still don't like the guy, but he helped me after I tried to slice his head off, so maybe he wasn't all bad."

Sam rolled his eyes and gave Dean a push towards the kitchen. "If you want a celebratory dinner then you're making it, mister."

"Dean cooks?" Castiel asked curiously.

"Dude!" Dean protested. "Don't make it sound so lame. I make badass burgers."

"I do like burgers," Castiel mused.

"The stove is in the kitchen, dude," Sam said, amused that Dean hadn't yet moved.

"Fine, but if I make dinner, you need to do all the dishes after," Dean bargained.

"Fine," Sam replied.

Castiel watched the exchange with mild amusement. "I do believe that you two have one of the most unique domestic arrangements in the history of humanity."

It was that comment that had them walking down the hall towards the kitchen laughing, able to forget for one moment the complications they were facing, and focus solely on the fact that, for once, the three of them had come out on the other side of a war alive, if not in the same shape they began the fight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you guys for your support! I'm hoping to stick to a similar schedule as I normally do, namely at least one chapter a week. Your patience is greatly appreciated.**

**Thanks to ncsupnatfan, SPN Mum, annburgum, and 1983Sarah for their reviews on chapter 2!**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - And The Saints We See**

As soon as Dean was distracted by the skillet, Sam pulled Castiel away under the pretense of "showing him something" so they could talk.

"What is it, Sam?" Castiel asked, concerned.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. "I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to do," he admitted. "Part of me is still trying to grieve, part of me is terrified, and the rest of me is so damn relieved he's just alive that I don't care. What do we do, Cas? What the hell do we do with this?"

Castiel's expression was remarkably sympathetic, and he winced as he replied, "As much as it pains me to admit, I do believe Crowley will be your most valuable resource." At Sam's expression, he added, "Do not misunderstand me, he will likely attempt to take advantage of Dean, but he is also the only one who can effectively teach Dean how to handle himself now that he is transformed."

"What could go wrong?" Sam muttered darkly under his breath.

"Unfortunately, quite a lot, but I do not see that you have much of a choice. Are there any other demons who hate you less and would be willing to help?" Castiel asked the question with genuine interest, but it still sounded almost patronizing.

Sam made a disparaging noise and shook his head. "Yeah, no. The king of Hell is all we've got."

"I will do my best to help manage the situation," Castiel offered. "Whenever I can be spared from Heaven, I will be here to help. Truthfully, I believe I would rather be here in any case."

Sam looked up in surprise. "Why?"

"They want me to be their leader again," Castiel admitted reluctantly.

"Wow, leader of Heaven." Sam hesitated, not sure what exactly to do with that information.

"Interim leader," Castiel corrected. "I accepted under to assumption that should someone more suitable be determined, they will take over."

Sam gave him a look. "Dude, trust me, I know you've had some issues with being given authority in the past, but really, at this point you're probably exactly what Heaven needs."

Castiel looked at him in what could best be described as shock. "Sam, you know better than anyone how poorly I have handled such control in the past."

"You made it right," Sam pointed out.

The angel clearly didn't agree, but he didn't argue, merely shaking his head slightly in response.

"Cas, we both forgave you a long time ago. If Heaven is willing to give you a second chance, then clearly we've all seen something you're ignoring. You can do this." Sam laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave him a smile.

"Thank you," Castiel replied firmly. "I suppose I will have to do my best to validate the faith you all seem to have in me."

"You'll be great," Sam encouraged. "If you're going to be busy running Heaven though, how exactly do you expect to be down here helping Dean?"

"I will delegate my responsibilities," Castiel replied. "Hannah is more than capable of managing Heaven for stretches of time if need be. She does not like Dean, but she understands the importance you both hold for me, and I do not believe she will object to the division of my time, providing it does not grow out of hand."

Sam shrugged. "Fair enough."

At that point, Dean had yelled at them to get back in the kitchen and help him set the table and put the condiments out. Dinner had been an enjoyable experience, not tainted by the struggled they had faced or the new ones that had cropped up, and the following poker game resulted in a very confused angel, preening demon, and annoyed human.

The following morning saw Sam eating oatmeal while he studied his brother eating a plate of bacon, just because he could. Or, Sam theorized, to prove he still could. Castiel had pointed out the night before that Dean no longer actually needed food, which Dean had seemed to find offensive. Apparently an entire plate of bacon no longer constituted a health risk, and the older Winchester still apparently had taste buds, so Sam didn't really see the harm. He thought it was gross, but not worth creating a battle over.

Once breakfast was over with, the Winchesters headed towards the main entry of the bunker, only to discover Crowley already waiting for them in the library.

"Dude!" Dean protested, eyes flashing black at the surprise, then back to normal as he relaxed. "You can't just pop in here whenever you feel like it."

"And yet, warding against me would be counter productive to you learning how to do, well, anything, so how about you stop protesting and let me start teaching you?" Crowley shot back, looking remarkably unconcerned.

"What exactly are these lessons going to entail?" Sam asked warily.

"We're starting with the basics," Crowley explained. "Dean is nowhere near as old as Cain, and therefore nowhere near as powerful. He is, however, unique, due to the mark, so that's going to make things interesting."

"Unique how?" Sam prompted.

Crowley shot him an irritated look. "I'm not here to teach you, Moose."

"Hey," Dean snapped. "Answer his questions, Crowley. We do this, we're doing it as a team." He paused and turned to Sam, gesturing towards his younger brother. "I'm counting on you to keep me grounded, okay?"

"Of course," Sam replied immediately.

"Which means he needs to know everything," Dean finished, directing that comment to Crowley. "Got it?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Fine. In that case, a quick lesson in your new demon nature is in order. Gather round, children." He shrugged when Sam and Dean both glared at him and gestured towards the chairs across from him. "Look, Dean's a whole new breed of demon. For all intents and purposes, all this development is going to do to his personality is potentially alter his perception of the significance of a moral compass, and he'll probably be a bit more surly."

"Fantastic," Sam groaned, shaking his head.

"Shut up," Dean griped at him. "Would you rather I woke up as evil incarnate?"

"God no," Sam replied immediately.

"Then we'll deal with this," Dean concluded. "That's why I said this needs to be a team thing. If my moral compass or whatever is wonky, that's what you're for."

"Which is different from basically our whole lives, how exactly?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes at his younger brother. "See? Not so different. So, I'm going to have a sketchy view of morality, I don't need to eat anymore, and my eyes flash black at really inopportune times. What else?"

Crowley sighed at them both. "You'll gain control over the eyes eventually," he informed his pupil. "I'd wager you've started to figure that out already."

"You do have more control over it than you did when you woke up," Sam acknowledged.

"All right, so the eyes I'll be able to control," Dean nodded. "What else?"

"Let's give your muscles a stretch," Crowley suggested. "I want you to appear on the other side of the room."

Dean waited, but no further instructions came. "How the hell do you expect me to freaking teleport?" He protested.

"Like this," Crowley informed him from the spot he'd pointed out to Dean, having vanished while Dean was arguing with him.

"I don't know how!" Dean snapped at him. "That's not exactly something I have experience with."

Crowley sighed. "It's a basic skill, and you simply need to concentrate. Just think how helpful it'll be when you and Moose go off hunting."

Dean made a face at him. "That still doesn't tell me what I have to do."

"Focus," Crowley growled. "It comes naturally."

Sam watched the exchange with both mild concern and amusement, but he jumped about a foot when nearly a full two minutes later, Dean actually managed to transport himself across the room.

"Very good," Crowley said, sounding unimpressed. "Now, Cain is significantly more powerful than you are, seeing as how you're essentially a child, but I'd imagine that one of these days you'll be able to teleport others wherever you choose with a touch."

"Cain did that to us," Dean remembered, sounding curious now. "So, what, I'll be able to do that too?"

"Eventually, perhaps," Crowley acknowledged.

"That mean I can learn that shushing trick too?" Dean asked with a grin. Turning to Sam, he explained quickly, "Cain decided it was time for Crowley to shut up, so he like literally shushed him, finger to lips and everything, and Crowley couldn't talk. It was awesome."

"It was bloody annoying is what it was," Crowley fumed, "but yes, you'll likely be able to do that too. How about we master some basic skills before we move on to the complicated things the ancient demon could do, all right?"

"Fine," Dean sighed.

Sam watched on, occasionally making notes of anything he wanted to remember as he watched Crowley run Dean through teleportation drills, which was the best was Sam could think to describe them. Apparently the goal was to get the skill to be so natural that he didn't have to think about it. Eventually Crowley started telling him to teleport to places outside the bunker, giving him tips about how to remain unnoticed. Sam hadn't ever really thought about how rarely demons, or angels for that matter, seemed to teleport into places with people. Or, if they did, they were discrete enough about it to not cause a panic. It was actually sort of fascinating, despite the fact that Crowley was a crochety teacher, and Dean wasn't a particularly attentive student. Once they got to the part of the lesson where Crowley sent him to the closest grocery store for a pie, Dean suddenly seemed a lot more interested in what Crowley had to say. Sam wasn't even a little surprised.

* * *

Castiel had returned to Heaven, but was regularly extending his grace down to the bunker to check on the first lesson with Crowley. He had yet to decide exactly how he felt about Dean's demon nature, but the one thing he was sure he did not feel was repelled, which was oddly relieving.

"You are distracted," Hannah commented, coming up behind him and surprising the new leader of Heaven.

"I am," Castiel admitted.

"Your hunter is alive," Hannah reminded him. "Should your mood not have improved?"

"No, I am relieved," Castiel assured her. "It is just that the circumstances warrant closer attention on my part. I promised Sam I would do my best to help them."

Hannah knew that Dean Winchester was now a demon, though she did not plan to advertise the knowledge. As Castiel's second in command for the time being, it was important for her to know what was important to him, and the Winchesters fell into that category, no matter how bewildering she found that. "Well, you can go pay them a visit once we accomplish some matters here," she told him.

Castiel gave her his full attention and nodded. "Yes, of course. What needs to be taken care of first?"

"You need to talk to Metatron," Hannah admitted reluctantly.

"About what?" Castiel asked with surprise.

"It has come to light from some of his original forces that he had a sort of vault where he was keeping objects of importance," Hannah informed him. "We do not know where he locked these things away, nor what they were, but we need to find out. What we do not know could result in a future problem to be dealt with."

"Agreed," Castiel mused. He felt a brief twinge of regret as the conversation brought to mind his old friend Balthazar, and the volatile weapons of Heaven he had sequestered and kept hidden, just waiting to cause havoc. If Metatron had been stashing away things he found important, there was no telling how great the potential danger.

"There are a few other matters, but it is nothing I cannot handle," Hannah offered gently. "I do not wish to burden you with too much when you already have to deal with Metatron. If you wish to go to Earth after you discuss matters with him, I will take care of things here."

"Thank you, Hannah." Castiel paused, then added gently, "Please ensure that I do not take advantage of your willingness to help. If I am to be the leader, no matter how reluctantly, I cannot leave you with too much responsibility."

Hannah smiled at him and nodded. "I do not mind helping, Castiel, but I will be sure to let you know if I fell you should be taking on more of the work."

"Thank you," Castiel repeated. He turned towards the door, intending to head to Heaven's dungeons. "I will let you know if I learn anything of significance."

"God be with you," Hannah wished him, smiling wistfully as she spoke.

Castiel returned her smile with one of his own, sighing softly and nodding as he departed. Metatron was the last person he wanted to speak with, but anything he might have kept from them could be important. He would have to do his best to part the scribe of Heaven from his secrets.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

**I like the speculation and ideas you guys are offering! It's really interesting to hear your thoughts.**

**Thanks to Altamiya, SPN Mum, and ncsupnatfan for their reviews on chapter 3!**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Are All Made Of Gold**

Heaven's dungeon had not changed since Castiel had seen it last, nor had the current occupant, who seemed surprised to see him.

"Well, well, well, Castiel," Metatron greeted him with a sardonic tone. "How is power treating you this time?"

"So far not as poorly as anticipated," Castiel replied calmly. "I suppose I have you to thank for providing the initiative I required."

Metatron scowled at him and shook his head. "Not what I had in mind," he muttered.

"Regardless, so far the effect has been largely positive," Castiel admitted. "I remain cautious, but optimistic thus far."

"Why are you here?" Metatron asked, doing his best to sound bored. "Are you just really bad at gloating, or do you need something?"

Castiel took an unnecessary but calming breath and relaxed before replying. "Where is your vault, Metatron?"

Immediately the scribe looked up, interest lighting up his expression. "So, that's what you're after! Good to know you're still a to-the-point sort of fellow. What do you want it for?"

"Does it matter?" Castiel returned.

Metatron shrugged. "Not really, call me curious. That's probably the only leverage I have left, and it's boring down here, sue me."

"Part of the process of restoring Heaven includes restoring the balance," Castiel informed him. "To that end, having a secret vault belonging to our vanquished enemy somewhere unknown is not wise."

"Fair enough," Metatron replied, seeming completely okay with that explanation. "I'll make you a deal. Bring me stories, good ones, ones I haven't read, and I'll tell you where to find some of my vault."

Castiel was too distracted by the second half of the offer to focus on the first. "What do you mean some of it?" He asked warily.

"It's not a location," Metatron informed him. "One thing is in one place, one thing in another, and so on and so forth. Bring me stories, and you get a prize. Fair's fair."

"How am I meant to know what you have not yet read?" Castiel asked him, not entirely in approval of the idea.

"I gave you all my entertainment knowledge," Metatron reminded him. "That was just the other day. Chances are, if you don't know anything about it, then I haven't read it."

"I suppose I can work with that," Castiel sighed. He did not need another task. Perhaps Sam could help with recommendations. He knew books, or at least Castiel thought he remembered that about the younger Winchester. It wasn't like any of them had exactly had time to sit around and read lately.

"Good. If you get me something good enough, I'll make sure the first part of my vault I let you find is something equally rewarding," Metatron promised, looking pleased with himself.

Dealing with the scribe was resulting in what Castiel would have called a headache if he had still been human. "I will see what I can do," he replied, swiftly leaving before Metatron could say anything more.

When he returned to the office he had taken from Metatron, Hannah was waiting for him with a stack of paper, looking apologetic. "What's wrong?" Castiel asked warily.

"Nothing, exactly," Hannah hurried to assure him. "It's just that the angels are restless, of course, with all that's happened, and I thought you should probably speak to them sooner, rather than later. Maybe help reestablish a hierarchy? Everyone's feeling a little lost."

"Hannah..." Castiel trailed off, glancing through the papers she had handed to him. "I am not sure this is the best step for me to take. I hesitate to treat my siblings as soldiers again, not now that they can be so much more."

Hannah smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. "Then tell them that, Castiel. They just need a purpose. It doesn't have to be what it was before, and you don't have to assign every angel a specific task. Just give them something to work towards. They can work the rest out themselves."

With a sigh, Castiel straightened the papers on which Hannah had composed relevant notes and nodded gratefully. "Very well. I will do my best. What about the souls trapped on Earth? Where are we with that process?"

Hannah winced. "Heaven is still technically closed off. Just because the door is now available, doesn't mean the pathways are open. I am looking into it, but I haven't been successful yet. As soon as I know what needs to be done, I will let you know."

"Thank you," Castiel said with a nod. "I want to rectify that particular issue as soon as possible."

"Of course. Go on now, go lead your people," Hannah urged him with a smile.

Castiel gave her a wary look, but nodded. "I will try," he vowed.

"That's all any of us can ask," Hannah reminded him warmly.

* * *

Sam was going to kill his brother. Or at least mix holy water in with all the beer in the fridge. Dean had mastered teleporting with astonishing speed, and by the following morning was thoroughly enjoying scaring the living daylights out of his younger brother at every opportunity. The next time he randomly appeared behind Sam while he was trying to concentrate on something, Dean would be lucky to walk away without rock salt embedded in his chest from the nearest shotgun.

"Dude, quit studying. I gotta show you something!" Dean announced himself with his usual lack of entrance, narrowly avoiding a punch in the face from his startled brother.

"Dean, I swear to God, if you don't cut that out I'm going to paint a devil's trap in the entryway of every single room in this bunker," Sam threatened.

Dean held his hands up in mock surrender, not looking particularly concerned. "Whatever. C'mon, this is awesome."

Sam reluctantly sighed and allowing Dean to grasp his shoulder, transporting them to the local bar almost instantly.

"I thought it was bad when Cas did it," Sam muttered, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the disorientation. Dean hadn't started to try and teleport with Sam until late the previous evening, after Crowley had been sure he could do it without accidentally hurting his brother.

As Crowley had put it at the time, "I hate that this would even bother me, but I'd like to make sure little brother won't actually disintegrate if you try and transport the two of your at the same time. Much as it would solve my problems." The demon had sighed and looked slightly forlorn about the unfortunate state that meant he had to give a damn about their well being. It would have almost been funny if it hadn't really been funny at all. Sam wasn't sure what it was, but he still didn't trust Crowley.

"You'll get used to it," Dean shrugged him off. "I used to hate Cas transporting us, but it doesn't bug me at all when I do it. Maybe my system is dealing better since I'm the one in control."

"You planning to stop driving now that you can just appear wherever you want?" Sam asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell no!" Dean protested, looking affronted. "Don't get me wrong, this is majorly convenient, but nothing beats my girl. I didn't get a personality transplant, Sam!"

Sam shrugged apologetically and nodded. "All right, well, can't blame me for checking."

"Point," Dean allowed. "Okay, so pay attention. I figured this out on accident when I was here last night." He pointed towards the bar, but stopped when Sam interrupted him.

"When were you here last night?" Sam asked, bewildered. "We were with Crowley all day, and he didn't leave until like midnight."

"Don't need to sleep," Dean replied dismissively. "The bed's still comfortable, but not necessary, so I figured I'd do something with my time. I even read a book. Aren't you proud?"

It occurred to Sam that the battered old copy of Slaughter House Five that had been on the table in the library when he passed through that morning was Dean's. Well, he could be doing worse things with his time. "Good for you," he replied wryly. "Were you just as well behaved at the bar?"

"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to let me show you or what?" Dean gave him a frustrated look, waiting for the interruptions to stop.

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped back. "Impress me. Or, at least, don't scare me."

Dean shot him a look that clearly said "bite me," then turned back to the bar. He focused on the television behind the bar, causing the picture to turn to fuzzy static. Within a moment, every television in the building was static, distracting the patrons of the bar.

"Dammit!" The bartender complained, walking over to slam the television behind the bar, which had been showing a basketball game. He smacked it a few times, but nothing happened. "Stacy said it was doing this on the late shift into this morning too," he commented to someone sitting at the bar. "We'll probably have to call someone."

While everyone was distracted, Dean was focusing on a spot on the wall of bottles behind the bar. One moment, there was nothing, and the next, a bottle had flown off the shelf and into Dean's waiting hand. He held it up to Sam and shook the bottle with a grin. "Dude, legit scotch." He popped open the top and took a swig. After a moment he took notice of the look was giving him and asked, "What's the face for?"

"That doesn't strike you as remotely unethical?" Sam asked him dryly, not really expecting a positive answer.

"I'm just having fun, Sammy," Dean said dismissively. "I'm hardly off mutilating puppies with extreme witchcraft. Hang on a sec." He set the bottle aside and flicked a hand towards the televisions, restoring the signal to the bar, resulting in cheers. He turned back to the bottle, only to see Sam setting it aside. "Hey!" He protested.

"I'm willing to deal with some screwy morality if that's the price for me not having to burn your body," Sam said quietly, "but I need you to trust me to stop you when you're headed down the wrong path. I know this isn't that big of a deal, but I don't want you to start down this road, Dean, okay? Please, can you trust me enough to actually listen if I tell you to stop?"

Sighing, Dean nodded. "Fine. No stealing."

"If I were you, I wouldn't turn off the televisions in a bar during an NBA playoff game either," Sam pointed out with an amused tone, attempting to lighten the mood.

Dean looked confused. "How's that unethical?"

"It isn't," Sam replied, "it's just kind of suicidal." He grinned as his older brother rolled his eyes, which were thankfully still green.

"All right, point made," Dean sighed. "Still, can you be impressed that I figured out how to do like two new things without help?"

"You've always been too smart for your own good," Sam said with a grin, ignoring Dean when he looked like he might argue. "Figuring out how to interfere with electronics and use telekinesis isn't half bad."

"Once I'm better at all this stuff, we need to go on a hunt," Dean announced.

Sam looked wary, but nodded slowly. "We'll see. I don't think we're ready to throw a newborn demon at the rest of the monster world just yet."

Dean scowled at him, but relaxed after a moment. "I'm a quick study," he announced with a smirk.

"Yes, Papa Crowley is very proud," Sam snarked, grinning at Dean's expression. "Just remember, Dean, with great power comes great responsibility."

"I cannot believe you just quoted Spider-Man at me," Dean groaned, turning away and hitting his head against the wall of the bar.

"If the boot fits," Sam said with a shrug. "Can we go back now? Or was there more alcohol you wanted to steal?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed his brother and they vanished again. That was actually something he was really pleased he could do. Crowley had explained that usually demons couldn't exactly transport humans wherever they wanted. It didn't really work like that. Crowley had enough power that he could transport humans without damaging them just fine, but he still hadn't let Dean try to transport Sam until he'd determined that Dean would actually be powerful enough to do it. It was a pretty damn convenient power. Dean was just afraid that he would let what were turning out to be pretty cool perks overshadow the danger of his new nature.

Well, that was what he had Sam for. This time, they weren't going to split up and let their relationship get corrupted. They were going to stick together and Sam would keep Dean from going full-on dark side. At least, that was the plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Life seems determined to keep me busy, but I shall find time to write regardless! **

**Thanks to ncsupnatfan, Altamiya, SPN Mum, Le'letha, and SnarryMoreidLover for their reviews on chapter 4!**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - When Your Dreams All Fail**

When Castiel had appeared in the bunker to plead for Sam's help seeking out entertainment for Metatron, the only reason Sam had agreed was because Dean was so thoroughly engrossed in the new discovery that he could change the channels on the television using his new powers. Sam figured that was a mostly harmless activity, and given how much trouble it had been to rewire the bunker to get a cable signal down there, someone ought to be using it.

So, satisfied that Dean wasn't going to get into too much trouble while he was gone, Sam agreed to go with Castiel to Barnes & Noble to look for books for Metatron. They appeared in the Science Fiction section, and Castiel immediately looked completely lost.

"I have no idea what I am doing," Castiel admitted, looking over the shelves without really seeing any of the books.

Sam patted his shoulder. "Relax, Cas, that's why you brought me. Just think, okay? Given what you know about genres and everything, what do you know the most about, books wise? Metatron gave you everything he'd seen or read, so whatever you know the most about is probably what he prefers to read."

There was a pause while Castiel followed Sam's instructions, then he slowly said, "Fantasy, I believe. Or, at least, stories that contain many elements the general human population consider to be mythical."

"Figures," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "All right, this is Science Fiction, so Fantasy should be right around the corner."

"Also Mystery," Castiel added, following Sam down the aisle. "There is only slightly less Mystery than there is Fantasy."

"Okay, diversity is good," Sam muttered in reply, distracted by the books on a display. "I might buy something while we're here. I finished my book a few weeks ago and haven't had a chance to get a new one."

"What are you reading?" Castiel asked curiously.

"It's this series called A Song Of Ice And Fire," Sam explained. "There's a tv show based on the books now, and we have this friend that's really into it, so I've been reading the books so I know what happens before it's on tv."

"Metatron has read those books," Castiel replied, disappointed.

"I'm not surprised," Sam shrugged, unfazed. "They're pretty popular. Let's go for more fringe stuff, things not as many people know about. I mean, I'm assuming you've got Lord Of The Rings, Chronicles Of Narnia, and Harry Potter in there, right?" Sam asked, gesturing towards Castiel's head. When the angel nodded, Sam continued, "Metatron's been around long enough to have read all the stuff everyone else knows about. We need to be more creative to get him to tell you anything important."

"That seems like a logical plan," Castiel acknowledged. "What do you suggest?"

"Start with these," Sam replied, picking three hardbacks up off the bottom shelf and placing them in Castiel's arms. "That's the Song Of Albion trilogy, which is like Fantasy fiction written in the style of Historical fiction. I'm going to look for some Mystery too. Did he say how many books you had to bring him?"

"No, but it is probably better to come prepared," Castiel replied, adjusting his hold on the books Sam had handed him. "I do not recognize these, so this should be a good start."

"Awesome. See? This isn't too difficult. I'm trying to work off of stuff I've already read, that way I know whether or not it's any good," Sam explained. "I figure it's best to play nice with Metatron for now, since you need him to give you information."

"He has an unfortunate amount of information I require that he can withhold," Castiel agreed, irritated by the thought.

Sam gave Castiel a sympathetic glance. "That can't be easy," he offered. "I barely met the guy and I can't stand him."

"I am not his biggest fan," Castiel admitted wryly.

"Understatement," Sam chuckled, reaching over a table to snatch the book he wanted off a display. "All right, this is the one I wanted. What kind of Mystery novels has Metatron read?" They rounded the corner to the mystery section, where there were various shelves with series or stand alone books.

"It seems to be mainly crime novels, especially complex ones." Castiel gestured to one shelf featuring the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, adding, "He has read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories."

"No surprise there," Sam nodded. "Again, that's the popular stuff. You've probably got all the Agatha Christie books too."

Castiel followed Sam's line of sight to the shelf in question, analyzing the titles. "Most, but not all. There are a few that are not familiar." He began to select the slim novels from the shelf, adding them to the stack he was carrying.

"That's easy," Sam grinned. "If he's already read most of them, odds are he liked them enough to enjoy the ones he hasn't read. Do you think that'll be enough, or should we keep looking?"

Castiel glanced at the stack of eight books and sighed. "It had better be enough," he grumbled. "I certainly hope so at least."

"Me too. You ready to go?" Sam hooked his thumb in the direction of the front of the store. When Castiel gave him a funny look, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Checkout, Cas. We need to pay."

"Oh, yes, of course," Castiel realized. "Here, I will buy the books. Give me yours as well."

Sam smiled slightly in amusement. "You're going to buy my book? How do you even have money?"

Castiel gave Sam the most superior look he could manage, then strode off towards the front of the store, leaving the younger Winchester to tail behind him chuckling with amusement.

Somehow, Castiel did indeed have the cash necessarily to pay for the nearly $140 purchase, leading to more raised eyebrows from Sam, which the angel ignored. As soon as they had paid, he handed Sam his book and took the bag, indicating the door with his head. "Ready?"

"Sure," Sam nodded. As they walked out the front door, Castiel transported them back to the bunker, landing in the room where they had left Dean barely an hour before.

"Where did Dean go?" Castiel asked, seeming surprised that the older Winchester was not where they had left him.

"He'd better still be in the bunker," Sam muttered, eyes narrowing. Moving to the hallway, where sound carried pretty much throughout the structure, he yelled, "DEAN!" After a minute with no reply, Sam scowled and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the first speed dial and lifting the phone to his ear. "I really hope he just got bored and went to the bar," he huffed under his breath.

"This is Dean's other, other cell, so you must know what to do." The voicemail picked up after five rings, and Sam growled at it in irritation.

"Dean, call me back. Where'd you disappear to?" He hung up, deciding not to keep talking and end up saying something angry he'd regret. "He's probably fine," he added, more to himself then to Castiel.

"It is still worth being concerned about," Castiel voiced calmly. "He has not been gone long."

"That's something at least," Sam sighed. "I'm going to go check the bar in town. Go back to Heaven and deal with Metatron. Trust me, if something is happening down here and I need your help? I'll call."

"Good," Castiel nodded. "Let me know if you find him as well. I would feel better knowing he is not in danger."

"Of course, Cas." Sam nodded, watching as the angel vanished. With another sigh, he glared at the cell phone in his hand and turned to head towards the garage. Maybe the Impala would be gone. For some reason, he was a lot less concerned about his brother if Dean had taken his car. Otherwise, he could be anywhere, and Sam wouldn't have a hope of finding him before he wanted to be found.

* * *

"Ah, my personal shopper returns!" Metatron crowed, clearly pleased as Castiel entered the dungeon, Barnes & Noble bag in hand.

Castiel's brow furrowed, and he shook his head slowly. "We are negotiating on my terms, Metatron. You may have one book for each item in your vault you tell me how to find. There are other ways to gain this knowledge, but I am willing to do a trade with you. However, you are not in control here, and you do not get to pretend for a moment that you are. Am I understood?"

The expression on Metatron's face could only be called sullen, but he nodded. "I hate that you're good at being in charge," he muttered.

"You need to provide me with information before I can give you a book, Metatron," Castiel added pointedly.

"Fine!" Metatron snapped, frustrated. "I have a storage locker, number 77, at a bus station in Chicago. It opens when you say "Holy" in Enochian. That's the key to all the different pieces of the vault, only the locations are different. I like to travel."

"Very well." Castiel pulled The Man In The Brown Suit by Agatha Christie out of the bag, passing it into the cell.

"Ah, the Queen of Crime," Metatron said fondly. "Good choice." He took a seat and perched the book on his knees, opening it to the first page. When after a moment it became clear that Castiel was not leaving, he turned back to the bars and made a face. "Castiel, I'm not going to give you all the answers at once. Let me finish this book, then you can come back and demand more information and give me another."

Irritated as he was, Castiel could see the logic in that, and he nodded reluctantly. "Very well. I will return tomorrow."

"Yes, yes. Go away." Metatron waved him off, returning to the book.

Castiel turned and made his way back to the control room where he knew Hannah was looking into the problem of the souls trapped on Earth. He came up behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the Enochian documents she had spread out in front of her. "Any luck?" He asked with a sigh.

Startling slightly, Hannah shook her head. "No, just a lot of information about how souls get to Heaven when everything is working properly. Nothing helpful yet. I should probably move on, but I keep hoping I'll stumble on some new piece of information that the puzzle is missing."

"I have confidence in you to find the solution," Castiel told her firmly.

"Thank you, Castiel," Hannah smiled at him. "I'm doing my best. How was your talk with the other angels? I heard good things after the fact."

"They actually seem to want to follow me," Castiel admitted. "I am still surprised by that."

"You're a good leader, Castiel," Hannah reminded him pointedly. "Previous mistakes don't define you."

"Be that as it may," Castiel dismissed, "I was at least able to remind them of the importance of finding purpose. I have tasked quite a large number of our siblings with general restoration of Heaven, since so many of them dislike Earth, but I also formed groups to return to the hospitals as we were doing before. I find that more connectivity with humanity is beneficial."

"Good!" Hannah praised, practically glowing. "See? I told you all they needed was a purpose!"

"What about you, Hannah?" Castiel asked curiously. "Have you decided to find purpose in being my right hand?"

"Would you rather someone else?" Hannah asked immediately, looking alarmed, as though she'd done something wrong.

"No!" Castiel reassured her instantly. "You do good work. I am just curious why you are so willing to support me."

"You're in the right," she replied simply.

"For once, I believe that may be true," Castiel mused. After a moment of comfortable silence, he turned to leave. "Metatron gave me a vault location," he informed Hannah. "I will go look into it, and bring whatever he's hidden away back with me, provided it is not unreasonably dangerous."

"Be careful," Hannah warned.

"Of course. Let me know if anything happens while I am gone," Castiel instructed. At Hannah's nod, he vanished, feeling the stolen grace inside of him give another painful warning of the dangers of using it too much. He landed in Chicago successfully, but had to breathe a moment to recover. That was a problem he was going to have to deal with very soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

**Yikes, sorry, guys! I got super busy and ended up being out late pretty much every night after work, so this didn't get updated as soon as I would have liked. Thank you for your patience!**

**Thanks to SPN Mum, ncsupnatfan, Altamiya, 1983Sarah, SnarryMoreidLover, and pryde23 for their reviews on chapter 5!**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - And The Ones We Hail**

Castiel found the bus station distasteful. It was eerily representative of all that was filthy about humanity. It brought back memories of the way he had felt about humans before he had become friends with the Winchesters, which was not a reminder he appreciated. He did not like who he had been back then. Granted, there were several more recent periods in which he did not like who he had been either, but the point remained that he did not like the reminder of the time he had seen all of humanity as unworthy. The people he could see milling around were the types who pedaled illegal substances to young people and convinced young women of the merit of working the streets. He had seen very similar places before. It made him sorrowful, and weary that there was not more that he could do to change that which ailed humanity.

A woman leered at him as Castiel made his way towards the lockers. She had wild dirty blonde hair that seemed to be defying gravity, and an odd assortment of clothing that was clearly not meant to go together. He smiled politely at her, feeling sympathetic towards her plight, then moved quickly towards his destination. He could not imagine why Metatron would have hidden something here under the code word 'holy.' This was far away from holy. As if to punctuate the statement, the woman who had been leering at him spat a wad of tobacco on the ground, followed by a vicious, hacking cough.

Locker 77 was completely innocuous. All the lockers were blue, with the numbers in burnished gold on the front, above the vents. Number 77 did not appear any different from the others, and Castiel doubted for a moment that it was where he actually needed to be. Sighing in resignation, he leaned in close and clearly spoke the Enochian word he had been told would open the locker. "_Pireda_."

The locker banged open with a loud clang, startling the angel. He straightened and gave the locker a cursory glance, somewhat surprised it had even opened. At first, he gazed at the item in the locker in confusion, not entirely sure what he was looking at. When he realized it, his eyes widened in shock and he blinked several times, too surprised to properly react.

"No..." He breathed, leaning forward and picking up the item with reverence. It was shaped like a shofar, but made out of a resilient and purified gold. Items of such beauty could only come from Heaven, let alone the power it contained.

"That's a shiny trinket," the woman who had been watching Castiel commented from behind him, clearly aware that it was worth something, if the look in her eye was any indication.

"This is no mere trinket," Castiel murmured in awe, mostly ignoring the woman. "This is a very powerful tool, one I had believed lost."

The woman seemed put off by the sincerity in the angel's voice. "What's it do? Looks like a horn."

"Not just any horn," Castiel corrected her. "This belongs to one of my brothers, and may be a valuable tool in the restoration of Heaven."

When she didn't respond, it was clear that the woman did not understand. Castiel glanced her direction to see that she was wandering away, muttering something about 'crazy hippies.' He turned back to examining the horn. Use of the sigil that activated the Horn of Gabriel did not necessitate possession of the horn, or else Castiel would not have been able to use it after Gadreel had been stopped, but Castiel hadn't even considered that the physical horn was out there. Of course Metatron would have had it. The physical horn was ten times more powerful than the sigil alone, and Metatron wanted all the power he could get.

Transporting himself back to Heaven, Castiel appeared in his office and opened the safe installed behind the bookshelf. He had reset the entire security system Metatron had built into the very human room when he had taken over, and he felt comfortable leaving the horn there for now. As soon as he had settled it inside, he locked the door and considered the new discovery carefully.

So, he now had the actual Horn of Gabriel. That meant several things. Firstly, it meant that all of the angels could be summoned, and their arrival would not be optional. Gabriel hadn't ever used it, so Castiel wasn't entirely sure what all it could do, but the purpose of the horn was supposed to be to bring all the angels together to herald the end of days as one. Being in possession of it would surely increase the demand of the Horn of Gabriel sigil that Gadreel had been using, which must have been why so many angels fell pray to it even after hearing of the other attacks. Castiel had been curious why so many had fallen into the traps. There were also legends even among angels that the horn was meant to be able to bring those dead back to life, but only when used by its namesake, and only when wielded in accordance with the will of God. Castiel wasn't sure exactly what could be accomplished, but he knew he had discovered something very powerful, and he needed to figure out exactly how to use it, or at the very least, protect it.

* * *

Sam spent a solid two hours driving around town, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't find Dean nearby. His brother hand't taken the Impala, unfortunately, which meant he could be anywhere. Sam had just returned to the bunker when his cell phone rang. He scowled at the caller ID and hit the answer button. "Not now, Crowley."

"Looking for the freshly demonized squirrel?" Crowley asked wryly. A loud roar in the background resulted in Crowley yelling a string of expletives away from the speaker.

"Is he with you?" Sam demanded, all irritation lost as the need to find Dean made itself primary again. He ignored the background noise. He probably didn't want to know.

Crowley snorted. "Somehow he managed to get himself to a pub in Manchester, and if I hadn't been looking for him already he may well have gotten his arse handed to him by a bunch of angry Welshmen who are in the area for some bloody reason." Another roar broke out in the background, but it sounded like a cheer that time.

It took Sam a moment to dissect the sentence enough to figure out what to address. "What the hell's he doing in England?" He finally asked. They'd been to Scotland once, but Dean had been too freaked out by the plane ride to really appreciate it much. He wasn't typically the cultured type, and so far hadn't teleported further than a few cities away as far as Sam knew. Transporting himself to different countries was way more than Sam was ready to handle.

"Doing his level best to piss off everyone who enjoys a good football match," Crowley snapped. "It's a miracle we haven't both been massacred. I'm sick of dealing with him, so you get to babysit the baby demon now."

There was so much wrong with that concept that Sam didn't even know where to start, so instead he asked, "How do you expect me to make my way to England from Kansas?" He asked sarcastically.

Crowley and Dean appeared directly in front of him in the garage, Crowley holding up the much taller Winchester who was clearly having trouble supporting himself. "I'm not an idiot, Moose," Crowley told him, irritated. "I'm returning the drunken fool to you, and you can deal with him."

"Woah," Sam said in shock, rushing forward to steady his brother. "How the hell did he even get drunk?"

"He tried very hard," Crowley snarked. "I don't know how much he's had, but it takes a bloody lot to get a demon intoxicated. As a connoisseur, believe me, I'd know."

"Will there be side effects?" Sam asked, concerned. He hadn't anticipated that Dean would ever get properly drunk again, and the way his brother's head was lolling around made him nervous.

"I doubt it," Crowley shrugged. "Holy water flushes the alcohol right out, though I doubt he'd thank you for it. Best just to get him into bed to relax until it wears off. He won't sleep, obviously, but a good lie down never hurt anyone. I'll check on you two imbeciles after I've had a break. You're exhausting, you know that?"

"Sorry to be such a bother," Sam replied dryly. "I guess I should thank you for watching him."

"Yes, you should, but don't strain yourself." Crowley rolled his eyes and vanished, leaving the Winchesters alone in the garage.

"All right, Dean, let's get you into a bed," Sam muttered, mostly to himself, as he began to drag his brother into the bunker.

"Mmm...Sammy..." Dean muttered.

"Well, you're alive at least. That's a good sign," Sam teased, trying to bring his brother out of the drunken stupor at least a little bit.

Dean seemed to come out of it a little and he straightened, taking more of his own weight. Squinting at Sam, he slurred, "How'd I get'ere?"

"Crowley," Sam explained, helping Dean over a step and into the hallway.

Dean chuckled. "Heh, Crowley's funny." He cleared his throat, seeming to find articulation a little easier.

"How so?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shrugged. "Kept the guy with the funny accent and the spiky hair from decking me. Crowley's short. It was funny."

Sam smirked, but didn't otherwise reply. That had to have been when Crowley kept Dean from getting himself into trouble with the local sports fans. Even before he was a demon, Dean wasn't really known for his tact, and that was while he was sober.

"Why're you being so cool?" Dean asked suddenly, his expression deadly serious as if the question meant everything to him.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, rounding a corner and focusing on his brother for a moment, confused by the question.

"We've done this before," Dean pointed out. When Sam didn't immediately respond, Dean added, "The other way around."

It took Sam a moment to follow his brother's disjointed train of thought, and when he figured it out, he sighed and ran his free hand through his hair distractedly. "Dude, that was totally different. C'mon, let's get you to your room."

"'s not different!" Dean protested. "Except you were just misguided and I'm actually evil. Why should I get grace? I didn't give you any!"

Sam groaned quietly under his breath. "I'm not doing this with you while you're drunk, Dean. It wasn't the same thing, and you're not evil."

"I'm a demon, Sam," Dean reminded him unnecessarily.

"I caught that," Sam replied, huffing a laugh at Dean's frustrated expression. "Seriously, Dean, you want to debate our dark times? We're not doing it while you're marinated."

"'m not that drunk," Dean muttered, batting at Sam's hand. "Still think you're being too cool with this."

"Yeah, well, we can debate how I deal with your demon nature in the morning," Sam replied, pulling Dean into the bedroom and shoving him onto the bed, smacking away his brother's hands when he tried to sit up. "Just lay back and rest, okay? I'm going to call Cas and let him know I found you. Or, Crowley found you. Whatever. Anyway, just sober up, and come find me when you're more lucid, all right?"

"M'fine. Tell Cas I got all the way to England. Crowley was impressed. Also annoyed. He always seem annoyed to you?" Dean rambled slightly as he settled on the bed, staring straight up.

"Uh-huh. I'd say sleep it off, but in your case you can probably like meditate or something." Sam shook his head slightly and left, closing the door behind him. He fished his cell phone back out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for Castiel. Hopefully the angel's dealings with Metatron had been productive. Good news would be welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all for your support! You're all being so fabulous, which I greatly appreciate. It's also nice to see the overall readership growing as well.**

**Thanks to SamSam, SPN Mum, Destiel, ncsupnatfan, TheKingOfTheCrossroads, 1983Sarah, and SnarryMoreidLover for their reviews on chapter 6!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Are The Worst of All**

Sam was sitting at the table in the kitchen when Dean waltzed in the next morning, looking perfectly fine, and distinctly pissed about it.

"What bit you?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at his older brother.

Dean scowled at him like Sam was bothering him by existing. "I'm not hungover," he explained, sounding as though it was the worst news he could deliver.

"You miss hangovers?" Sam asked him incredulously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, it just sucks that I don't have one. More proof I'm not human. Not exactly what I need first thing in the morning."

Sam had to swallow the frown that was building from Dean's phrasing, but he thought he understood what was really going on. "Get some breakfast - there's stuff in the fridge you can heat up. I think I might be able to distract you."

Meandering towards the fridge, Dean retrieved some sausage and threw it into the five dollar microwave they'd picked up a thrift store a few months ago. It had been Dean's idea. Sometimes, he just wasn't patient enough to deal with the stove. As the microwave beeped and he pulled the meat out, he waved a hand at Sam. "Go on. What's the news?"

Sam still thought it odd that Dean was eating so consistently, but he thought it probably had more to do with Dean trying to maintain normalcy than any actual need for food. He shoved the thought away and replied, "So Cas made a deal with Metatron to trade for information."

"Right, bookstore. That's why he came by yesterday," Dean said around a mouthful of sausage. He made a face and swallowed when Sam gave him a look, and added, "Sorry, continue," he snarked.

"Anyway," Sam emphasized, sighing internally at his brother. A part of him warmed at the sign of sameness though. It was good to know that the majority of his brother's personality had remained intact so far. "Cas gave Metatron the first book in exchange for the location of a vault. You'll never guess what he found."

"Then you'd better tell me," Dean deadpanned.

Sam smirked. "The Horn of Gabriel."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Isn't that what that sigil thing was that Gadreel was using to murder angels?"

"Yes and no," Sam explained. "Apparently the sigil just takes advantage of the summoning properties of the horn, but when you actually have the horn, the sigil is way more powerful. That's why so many angels kept getting caught in the traps - they didn't really have a choice to ignore it. Cas says that the physical horn is impossible to ignore, would summon all the angels, and if wielded by Gabriel himself, could possibly bring the dead back to life."

Dean blinked once, then again, staring at Sam thoughtfully. "Huh." He took another bite of sausage, chewing as he gazed at his brother, trying to decide how to react. "I guess it doesn't surprise me that Metatron had powerful weapons hidden away. Or powerful stuff, at least. I don't know if the horn qualifies as a weapon."

"Depends on who's using it," Sam pointed out. "According to Cas, the physical horn hasn't every actually been used. It's always been protected, because only Gabriel was supposed to use it. He seemed kind of indignant of the fact that Metatron had even had it."

"So, what, it's pretty much useless since its archangel is dead?" Dean asked, wiping the corner of his mouth on his hand.

Sam hesitated. "Cas was actually a little cagey when I asked about that. He said something about having to talk to Hannah and then he kind of quickly said goodbye and hung up on me."

"Is that the angel version of 'I'm going through a tunnel'?" Dean asked, smirking.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Or something."

"Wait a minute," Dean interjected, suddenly realizing something. "Isn't Hannah the chick who asked Cas to kill me?"

Sam shrugged. "It sounds like she's his right hand again."

Dean scowled. "I don't trust her."

With a snort, Sam replied, "That's because she totally called Cas on his loyalties. It sounds like she's being helpful, and Cas kind of implied that her covering for him is the only reason he's been able to spend so much time down here since Metatron's rule fell. Mostly because he's worried about you."

"He doesn't need to be worried," Dean muttered self-consciously. "I'm doing fine."

"Dude, you teleported to England yesterday to get drunk and insult the locals while they watched their national sport," Sam reminded him. "Don't get pissed if Cas is concerned. It's kind of valid."

"Well, at least I can still get drunk," Dean offered with a grin.

"Yeah, you come back that sloshed again and I'm shoving holy water down your throat," Sam threatened. "According to Crowley it'll burn the alcohol right out, and I don't want to deal with a drunk demon on a regular basis. Especially since your default now apparently is to get all weird on me." He made a face, not relishing the memory of Dean's questions from the day before.

Dean flushed slightly and shifted awkwardly. "Yeah. About that -"

"It's not the same thing, Dean, and I don't want you to be playing the comparison game, okay?" Sam said firmly, cutting his brother off before he could get started.

Dean huffed. "Not that I want to talk about this, believe me, but I gotta know, Sammy, how can you think it isn't even a little bit the same?"

"Because I deliberately chose to ignore the advice of those I trusted, gave myself over to evil willingly, and betrayed pretty much the entire human race," Sam bit out. "You're literally only a demon because you died trying to kill one of the most powerful demons we've ever faced and the worst enemy Heaven's had in a good long while."

Dean stared at him. "So what do you call Lilith then? It's not like you knew her blood would release Lucifer, and I was hardly supportive."

"God, Dean, I was willingly drinking demon blood. I mean, I hated it, but I was still doing it because I loved the power. You shouldn't have been supportive. I don't blame you at all." Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

Dean made a disapproving noise. "Not of the blood drinking, idiot. I should have been supporting _you_. You're so damn supportive of me and the stupid demon training with Crowley, and making sure I stay me and don't turn into some super villain, and all I can think about is the way I acted when you were dealing with all this demon shit."

"It's. Not. The. Same. Thing." Sam enunciated, leaning forward in earnest. "I'm serious, Dean. Once I figured out how wrong I was, I never blamed you for anything. You were right about everything you said. Everything. I made my peace with everything you and I went through back then ages ago. God, please don't feel guilty, or whatever's going on with you. I sure as hell didn't support the First Blade crap, results be damned, but I'm going to do my best to keep you on the right path now that you're reaping the consequences. How is that any different from what you did for me?"

Sighing slowly, Dean finally nodded. "All right, point taken." He ruffled the slightly too long spikes of his hair and smirked lightly. "Air feels clear. It's weird. Maybe we need to do this more often."

"Thought you didn't like talking?" Sam teased, responding with a slight grin.

"Eh, it has its merits." Dean shrugged and relaxed against the seat he was in. Changing the subject, he asked, "Do you think Crowley had enough of me yesterday or will I have training today?"

"Beats me. He seemed pretty done yesterday, but you can always give him a call." Sam chuckled and got up to put the dishes away. "Your funeral."

"Eh, he won't kill me." Dean said confidently, sending a text to Crowley.

Sam gave him a look. "Did you just text the King of Hell?"

"Yep," Dean replied, tucking his cell phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll be in the library," Sam informed him, rolling his eyes and heading out, muttering something about their weird lived under his breath as he left, leaving Dean grinning behind him.

* * *

"Castiel. Castiel. _CASTIEL_!"

The final call of his name startled the angel enough to look up, catching Hannah's concerned look. "I'm sorry, Hannah. What were you saying?"

"Are you all right?" Hannah asked, eyes wide. "You seem very distracted."

"I am," Castiel acknowledged. After a beat he added, "distracted, that is."

"Is something the matter with Dean?" Hannah asked hesitantly. She was still far from fond of the newly formed demon, but was both aware of and mindful of the bond between him and Castiel.

"No, I spoke with Sam recently and Dean is fine," Castiel replied absently. "If a little too determined to cause trouble," he allowed after a moment's consideration, the side of his mouth twitching briefly towards a smile.

"So, no different from usual then?" Hannah asked kindly, still looking worried.

Castiel didn't look at her, staring into space. "It is Metatron that concerns me."

"What did he do?" Hannah demanded, sudden fear creating urgency.

This time Castiel did look at her, lifting a hand to calm her. "Nothing, Hannah, relax. It is something he did to me while in power that currently distracts me. I feel that it may have an impact on more recent discoveries."

Hannah hesitated before asking, "Does this have anything to do with whatever it was that you found in his vault?"

"It may," Castiel replied, slowly nodding in consideration.

"Are you going to tell me what it was?" Hannah asked eagerly.

"Not yet," Castiel shook his head. "I would rather not advertise the discoveries of his vaults until I have a better idea of his end game. He knew what he was doing, sending me to this particular vault, and I worry that Metatron is manipulating me."

"Perhaps you should confront him?" Hannah asked tentatively, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the prison. It was odd, working in such a human looking environment in Heaven. Everything had direction and form to it, where once everything had been formless and light. Castiel found he appreciated the semblance of order that he human layout provided. If nothing else, it provided a balance he could understand.

"Maybe that would be best," Castiel sighed. Rising, he straightened the trench coat and strode towards the door. Pausing, he turned back. "I am sorry, Hannah. I do not mean to be so distracted during our meetings. Was there something I needed to address?"

"Right now I believe you need to be addressing Metatron," Hannah told him with a smile. "There is nothing else so urgent it cannot wait."

With a smile and nod, Castiel moved towards the prison. On arrival, Metatron did not look up at him, but smiled slightly, clearly aware of his presence.

"Can I help you, Castiel?" Metatron asked, setting down the Agatha Christie novel he had been perusing, his finger stuck inbetween two pages towards the back of the book.

"I want to know what exactly your goal is with this game you are playing," Castiel said firmly. "I do not believe you so careless as to send me to a random vault with no purpose. You knew well its significance, and I want an answer from you."

Setting the book completely aside, Metatron turned to face Castiel, perching his chin on his hands. "Well, well, you seem to have an awful lot of faith in my intelligence," he teased. "What exactly is it you want from me, Castiel?"

"Right now, the answer to only one question," Castiel told him, his tone brooking no room for argument.

His eyes twinkling with what could only be described as mischief, Metatron replied, "What might that be, I wonder?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

**I've been really amused to read all of your ideas and thoughts on the chapters so far! Your encouragements are greatly appreciated.**

**Thanks to Le'letha, Altamiya, SPN Mum, 1983Sarah, What You See in the Shadows, ncsupnatfan, and Marmar for their reviews on chapter 7!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - And The Blood's Run Stale**

Less than amused with Metatron's antics, Castiel did not humor him with a response to the antagonism. His tone firm and brooking no room for argument, Castiel asked, "Is Gabriel alive?"

Metatron smiled softly at Castiel, his expression indicating he found the angel to be a particularly amusing puppy. "That, my young hero, would be a spoiler." He chuckled when he saw the glare Castiel gave him as a result. "Come now, Castiel! Life is hardly as interesting with a simple yes or no. This is a quest! I can forgive you for thwarting my plans, because watching you struggle to succeed in the aftermath is nearly as interesting. So, I will not give you an answer. You can go out and discover the truth for yourself. After all, isn't that how we all learn?" With a satisfied expression, Metatron sat back against the wall and picked his book back up, apparently deciding the conversation was over.

Castiel inhaled slowly, calming himself before responding. "Does that mean you wish to see me succeed?" He asked, honestly curious.

Metatron glanced up, lips pursed. "Or crash and burn," he added. "Either way, I'm sure I'll enjoy the ride."

"You realize that my leadership is the reason you were not killed," Castiel pointed out. "If I fail and fall, you may well find your prison sentence revoked in favor of a swift execution."

Something flickered in Metatron's eyes, but he shrugged. "Well then, I suppose it's in my best interests for you to succeed, isn't it?" He turned back to his book, waving a hand in Castiel's direction. "Off you go now. Go play."

Deciding it wasn't worth the argument, Castiel left, appearing upstairs where he had left Hannah. "I dislike Metatron," he muttered, disgruntled.

Hannah looked up, her expression sympathetic. "Is he causing trouble?" She asked, wincing at the look of irritation on Castiel's face.

"He is being deliberately difficult," Castiel explained, expression a cross between weary and frustrated.

Hannah pushed the chair across the desk out with her foot, indicating that he should sit down. "It will be all right, Castiel. Metatron knows he has lost. His only form of victory left is tormenting you. You are stronger than he is."

Castiel sighed, but nodded his agreement. "I appreciate your support, Hannah. There are many more difficulties to this victory than I had anticipated."

"No victory is without cost," Hannah agreed. "I think you're managing well though." She shuffled through a stack of papers absently, tapping a finger on the desk, then finally picked up a sheet of paper and held it out to him. "I was debating whether or not to show you this, but I decided you ought to know."

Wary, Castiel took the paper and skimmed it. He had to take a deep breath before he could reply. "How did Metatron even find them? I thought they were lost when I..." He trailed off, reading the report.

"The weapons of Heaven were stolen, but never returned," Hannah reminded him gently. "You had died, so no one was left to know where they were. Metatron was apparently able to track down the cache somehow, but that would explain the existence of his vault. He would have needed to protect what he had found."

"I am not surprised he sought out the weapons I left behind in my failed attempt to become God," Castiel sighed, trying to fight back the bitterness the memory brought out. "After the Leviathan took over and I was torn apart, I suppose dealing with the weapons never returned to the forefront of my mind."

"Even if you had gone back for them," Hannah interjected, "What would you have done with them? Heaven was not in a state to be given such weapons again, and you could hardly have used them yourself. Do not regret what has passed."

"I regret much that has passed," Castiel countered, sighing softly. "The weapons would never have left Heaven if not for Balthazar, and had I not killed him for imagined slights, they may well have still been protected."

Hannah did not reply, watching Castiel closely. She knew better than to attempt to absolve Castiel of his guilt over killing Balthazar. It had been wrong, and he was right to regret the choice. However, she did not believe he was the same angel that had made those previous poor decisions. She just was unsure how to help Castiel believe that. "Castiel," she started, pausing until he looked up at her. "The past is the past," she said firmly. "You are not the same as you were when you made those choices, and you are doing your best to help your family now."

"That is all I can do," Castiel added, nodding in agreement. "Hopefully I can atone for the past by succeeding in the present."

Deciding that that was probably the closest to acknowledgement as she would get, Hannah smiled at Castiel and held out a different paper. "On to our next issue, then."

"What is that?" Castiel asked, taking the paper and perusing it briefly.

"Solutions to your grace problem," Hannah said sternly. "You cannot keep ignoring it. I see the pain using your power is causing you, and you cannot allow that stolen grace burning out to take away the only leader we have."

Sighing deeply, Castiel set the paper down. "Hannah, do you have a solution?"

"Not yet," Hannah admitted.

Castiel stood and shook his head. "Until we discover a solution, I see no reason to waste valuable time chasing theories. There are more important things to be done. I will worry about my own health, so to speak."

Knowing she was not going to convince him otherwise, Hannah took the paper back and added to her stack. "I will not give up," she announced.

With a smile, Castiel inclined his head in her direction. "I would expect nothing less." With that, he vanished.

* * *

Dean was both exhausted and more energetic than he could ever remember being. It was very confusing to feel like he needed to sleep for a week, know he couldn't, and also want to go on a hunt all at once. It didn't help that Sam and Crowley both refused to allow him to go on a hunt.

"You're not ready yet," Crowley told him, eyebrows arched as though the mere thought was ludicrous. "You're a demon now, Dean. Hunting is going to be very different, and I'd rather you didn't destroy all my hard work by going on a suicide mission before we've gotten very far at all."

"Not that I want to agree with the king of Hell," Sam added wryly, "but he's right. You've been a demon for a few days, Dean. Honestly, even if you hadn't died and woken up with black eyes, we kind of just defeated a Knight of Hell and managed to help Cas take back Heaven. Isn't a break kind of in order?" He sighed heavily and looked at his brother pleadingly.

Dean scowled. "There's only so much excitement I can get from teleporting all over town and making books fly off the shelves," he pointed out. "I want to go stab something and actually get moving."

Sam raised on eyebrow at him cautiously. "Is that the Dean who's just antsy talking or the Dean that needs to kill to feed some inner monster?"

That was how Dean had explained the way the mark made him feel during one of their conversations after realizing how much their lives had suddenly changed. Dean didn't particularly appreciate the phrase being used against him now, and he made a face at Sam. "Relax, dude. I'm not going to go on a killing spree. I just feel like I haven't actually done anything in ages."

"You just stabbed Abaddon!" Sam protested incredulously. "How was that not something?"

"That was awhile ago though," Dean replied, ignoring his brother's expression. "C'mon, can't we just go after a spirit or something? I don't care if it's a kiddie hunt, I just want to do something!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Salt hurts demons too," he reminded the older hunter. "How do you expect this to go down?"

"I can man a freaking shotgun, Sam!" Dean exclaimed, exasperated. He threw his hands up and raked them through the slightly longer than usual hair he hadn't bothered to fix yet. "I don't actually have to touch the salt."

That was a valid point, which Sam really didn't want to admit. He wanted to make sure Dean was at least stable and reasonably familiar with his powers before he let the brand new demon loose during a hunt. Not that he was really in a position to 'let' Dean do anything, but still, if they were going to be a team in this new situation, he needed to know Dean would be all right to control himself during a hunt.

Dean watched Sam think for a moment before he made a disparaging noise and turned away. "One hunt, Sam," he muttered under his breath. "Something easy, even. I just need to get my feet wet!"

"Fine," Sam answered.

"Excuse me?" Crowley finally cut in, incredulous. "I thought I just heard you agree to take the baby demon on a hunt."

"Not an infant, Crowley," Dean snapped at him.

Sam held up a finger to stop Crowley's reply. "We will go on one hunt. Something basic. I'll see what's available. This is a trial run, Dean. I don't want either of us getting into trouble because you don't know how to control all this demon stuff yet."

"It'll be fine, Sam, you worry too much," Dean dismissed, but he was grinning. "You're serious?"

Sam nodded. "It's been awhile since we hit the road for something that wasn't related to the imminent drama of Heaven and Hell," he admitted. "I kind of want to do something different."

"Awesome. Find a vampire or something, okay? I want to behead something." Dean grinned, vanished, and reappeared behind Crowley, leaning forward to shout "HA!" in the demon's ear.

Flinching, Crowley whirled to smack his pupil, only to have Dean reappear next to Sam. "I've half a mind to end you now," Crowley growled, his scowl furious.

"Okay, the last thing we need is a demon war in the library," Sam interrupted quickly. "Dean, why don't you go blow off some steam in the shooting range?" He gestured towards the hall that led to the targets.

"My aim is perfect, Sam," Dean reminded him, sounding proud of that fact.

"Yeah, but you can probably throw bullets into the targets with your brain now," Sam pointed out. "Sounds like something worth practicing, right?"

Dean considered it for about half a second before he vanished.

Turning to Crowley, Sam made a face at the much older demon. "I know patience isn't really your thing," Sam said dryly, "but Dean's not the kind that responds well to threats."

"So you want me to reinforce good behavior with alcohol and sweets?" Crowley snarked. "I can't help it if your imp of a brother irritates me."

Sam smirked. "I'm not asking you to turn into his warm and fuzzy mentor, Crowley," he replied with a chuckle. "Just try not to end him, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Crowley sighed, as though it was a great burden, then vanished.

Standing and stretching, Sam shook his head slowly, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. "Well, that was fun," he said to himself. Dealing with two demons on a regular basis wasn't something he was sure he was entirely able to handle. Dean was one thing. Demon or not, Dean was Dean. Sam could always handle Dean. Having to handle Dean and Crowley together? That was another matter entirely. Hopefully the hunt would go well and Sam would be able to use it to help them both moving forward. That reminded him that he had to actually find a hunt, so he reached across the table to snag the laptop with the tips of his fingers, dragging it towards himself and sitting back down.

Time to find a hunt. Hopefully one that wouldn't cause too many problems for a freshly made demon and his human brother. Because really, more trouble was the last thing they needed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all for your encouraging words and comments! I really appreciate getting to read through them!**

**Thanks to Le'letha, ncsupnatfan, .ln, SPN Mum, 1983Sarah, Calatia, and What You See in the Shadows for their reviews on chapter 8!**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - I Wanna Hide The Truth**

Honestly, Dean was surprised that Sam had agreed to a hunt. He wasn't at all surprised that Crowley was unhappy with the plan, but Crowley was rarely in a good mood. The King of Hell had come back to work him through more exercises later that day to help prepare him while Sam did research to see if there was a hunt nearby.

Crowley had put him through a few variations of mental push ups, mostly to try and get him to be able to do anything with his power for any length of time. Dean tended to get worn out more quickly than he'd like, even though he couldn't actually get exhausted anymore, technically. It was hard for him to wrap his brain around, but regardless, he understood the need for more practice.

It got ten times more interesting when Crowley had him start practicing holding the King of Hell himself against the wall. After all, as Crowley reminded him, how often had that exact tactic been used against the Winchesters? It was a handy skill to utilize. Dean had pointed out that he'd managed to break free of that particular trick when Abaddon had used it on him, but Crowley still thought he needed to learn how to do it the other way around. The majority of demons Sam and Dean ran into on a regular basis weren't strong enough to break the hold the way Dean had done to Abaddon, so it was worth knowing how to do.

It was also mentally exhausting, but felt more fulfilling. As a result, Dean was able to take breaks and recover, then pin Crowley for longer than he had before. Not very long, mind, but longer than before. It was a learning process.

"Honestly, how do you think I'm doing with this demon power stuff?" Dean asked at one point, after managing to pin Crowley to the wall for fifteen seconds, the longest time so far.

Crowley dusted himself off, despite the fact that the wall hadn't really been that dirty, and shrugged. "For a brand new demon, you're doing all right. Though, in fairness, you're an incredibly powerful new demon regardless of effort."

"Because of the Mark," Dean clarified, his expression darkening as he thought of the consequences taking that responsibility on had cost him so far.

"In part," Crowley agreed.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean in part?"

Crowley gestured towards the wall he had just been pinned to. "You being able to overpower me at all is because of the Mark. A normal demon wouldn't be able to do that. Not enough power by a long shot. However, you've only been a demon a few days. The fact that you can hold me to the wall at all is not a surprise, but the fact you did it for as long as you did has more to do with your own stubbornness and dedication. I'd be proud of you if we had that sort of relationship." Rolling his eyes, Crowley had adjusted his suit jacket and buttoned it again, then smoothed it into place. "I don't think a hunt is wise, but I also don't think it'll kill you. It shouldn't, anyway." Sighing, Crowley fixed his cuffs, then straightened up. "I'll be going now. Tell the moose I said to be careful on this little hunt of yours." With that, the King of Hell vanished.

"Huh." Dean stared at the empty spot for a moment, trying to decide how best to react. He was hardly friends with Crowley, but the fact that the demon was being helpful at the moment was undeniably useful. Maybe things wouldn't stay that way forever, or even for long, but for now, Dean couldn't say he minded much.

Heading out of the storage room where he and Crowley had been practicing, Dean made his way back to the library, detouring past the kitchen to grab two beers on his way. When he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Castiel was back again.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean grinned as he entered, tossing Sam the second beer as soon as his younger brother looked up. "Do you want a beer?" He offered out of habit, despite knowing Castiel found absolutely no purpose for alcohol.

"No, Dean, thank you," Castiel replied, smiling in welcome at the hunter. "How are you?"

"Tired," Dean admitted, pulling out the chair next to Sam and across from Castiel. "How's your space kingdom?"

Castiel's forehead furrowed slightly before he realized what Dean was referring too. "Heaven is not in space," he chided Dean mildly. "It has been going relatively smoothly. Hannah has been a great help, and Metatron seems to find some entertainment in supporting me, though only as much as he feels like at any given time." Castiel sighed, and gestured towards Sam's laptop. "Sam tells me you two are going to go on a hunt."

Dean glanced at Sam, who didn't comment. "That's the plan. I want to actually test out this whole demon powers thing, see if I'll be able to handle everything, you know? It's one thing to stretch my muscles in the safety of the bunker, but I need to know if I can handle myself out in the field, so to speak." He shrugged and caught Sam's eye. "Plus, if I'm going to lose it on a hunt and you can't pull me out of it, it's better we know that now."

"Wow, Dean, way to be optimistic," Sam stated wryly, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "The weirdest thing I can find that sounds like our kind of deal is a series of seemingly random kidnappings about two hours from here. There's a bunch of farms out there, but farm hands and kids keep disappearing, then reappearing a few days later with no memories and a bunch of scratches."

Dean made a noise of interest, taking a swig of his beer. "Huh. That is weird. What kind of scratches?"

Sam smirked slightly. "Get this - the doctors are saying that the scratches most closely resemble what you would get if you'd been attacked by a wild monkey."

Castiel looked confused. "I was not aware the monkeys were indigenous to Kansas," he mused.

"They aren't," Sam and Dean said in unison. Dean had stood and moved to Sam's side, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. "So what the hell is taking people then? Giant ass monkey monster? That would be a new one."

"No idea, but it's not far, and I don't want to move out of state for our first hunt with you all super charged," Sam pointed out. "Cas, do you have any theories for us?"

Castiel shook his head. "As far as I am aware, Planet Of The Apes was not based on a true story, so I am unsure of any help I could provide."

Dean gaped at the angel for a second, then shook his head. "It's beyond weird to me that you even know what that is," he muttered.

"Metatron managed to provide me with quite a bit of useless information regarding pop culture," Castiel reminded him, seeming perturbed about it.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not all movies are useless," he protested lightly.

"Well, maybe I should accompany you on this hunt so you can enlighten me," Castiel suggested, amusement coloring his tone.

"You want to come with us?" Sam asked, surprised. "Do you have the time to spare for something like that?"

Castiel hesitated. "Hannah can manage. Metatron needs some time to finish his book, and I could benefit from a rest to my grace."

Dean looked up at the mention of Castiel's grace. "You found a solution for that yet?" He asked pointedly.

Castiel shook his head. "Not yet. I am looking into options, as is Hannah, but we have not found an answer yet."

Eyeing him skeptically, Dean asked, "Will coming with us let you rest up, or what?"

"I believe I may find it to be helpful," Castiel agreed. After a moment he admitted, "I would also feel better if I was able to close by, should you encounter any problems. You may find that hunting as a demon causes more problems than you anticipate."

For a second it seemed like Dean was about to argue, then he sighed and nodded. "Yeah, fair point. It's been awhile since you've been on a hunt with us. Should be fun, right?"

"Fun, that's the word," Sam muttered from behind him, but chuckled just the same. "We do like having you around, Cas. You're welcome to come along. Dean, is it cool if we leave in the morning?"

"What, you can't sleep in the car?" Dean countered, gesturing to himself. "I can drive through the night, remember? Might as well get a jump on things."

"If we leave now we'll be getting there in the middle of the night," Sam pointed out. "It's not like we'd be able to do much. Tomorrow morning, we can leave bright and early. If you think you'll get bored, why don't you and Cas do something? Neither of you need sleep, remember?" Closing his laptop, Sam waved to the both of them, then headed down the hall towards his bedroom.

"He has a point," Castiel added, a light smile on his face. "Not to mention, it has been awhile since we have talked."

"All right then." Dean kicked the chair out of his way and pulled himself onto the table, crossing his legs and toying with his beer bottle. Gesturing to the space on the table in front of him, he said, "Join me."

Castiel climbed onto the table with considerably less fluidity, but eventually managed to situate himself in a similar position, trench coat splayed out behind him. "Is it necessary to sit on the table to converse?"

"Nah, just feels rebellious without being evil," Dean replied with a shrug. "I'm trying to find compromises for my new nature."

"You are not evil," Castiel told him sternly. "I did not even see your demon nature at first glance. I still see you, Dean. Your new nature is secondary, if it is anything." Castiel allowed his gaze to roam over the older Winchester briefly. It was interesting to see the demon inside the hunter. He still had to focus in order to see it properly, unlike with the regular demons he had grown used to. Even when he was looking at the demon, rather than the human exterior, it wasn't the ugly and twisted horror that was visible in ordinary demons. Castiel wished he had a better way to explain that to Dean.

Dean made a face. "Still a demon, Cas." It was much harder for Dean to see in shades of gray. He could understand working with demons when absolutely necessary, like they'd done with Crowley, but demons were still evil. Period.

"Have you not met good monsters?" Castiel asked gently.

Wincing internally at the word monster, Dean had a sudden pang of sympathy for his brother. No matter what Sam said, Dean couldn't help but draw similarities to the situation his brother had gone through five years before. He wondered if Castiel saw those similarities too, but he really didn't want to ask. Focusing back on Castiel's question, Dean replied, "I guess, but not demons. I mean, Crowley's only helpful because it suits him to be, and I think he's still a little too attached to us after Sam dosed him up with purified blood."

"Meg was helpful," Castiel offered.

Dean made a face. "Look, Cas, I get that she helped you, and it's not like she didn't help us out from time to time, but Sam and I pretty much tolerated her. She wasn't actually _good_. You know she possessed Sam once, right? She almost killed...anyway, and she shot me!" Dean stumbled over Jo's name, not wanting to draw the memory back into the light. "I get that she was good to you, but that doesn't make her good."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I suppose I can understand that reasoning. Perhaps you will be the first truly good demon, then. After all, demons are born of corruption after torture in the pits of Hell. You were born of a sacrifice to save others. That may make all the difference, in the end."

Dean stared at the angel, mulling over the words thoughtfully. "You really believe that?" He finally asked skeptically.

Castiel nodded solemnly. "If anyone could be a good demon, Dean Winchester, it would be you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

**I really appreciated the comments on chapter 9, especially since some of you were mystified about the hunt, and some of you are on the exact same wavelength I am! **

**Also, because a few people have asked lately, my Tumblr is SupernaturallyImagined, and I do accept prompts!**

**Thanks to SPN Mum, Le'letha, LordOfTheSuperwhomerlockians, Altamiya, 1983Sarah, What You See in the Shadows, and ncsupnatfan for their reviews on chapter 9!**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - I Wanna Shelter You**

Sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala, speeding down the highway with the windows down and listening to an ancient Led Zepplin tape that was practically worn out while Dean drove was one of the most reassuring experiences Sam had had in the past few months. For a while, at least, it seemed like everything could be just as it always was. Just two brothers in their father's car, hunting down the things that go bump in the night.

Although, in fairness, there was plenty about the drive that was surreal enough to be weird. Castiel, sitting in the backseat, occasionally commenting on the song playing by indicating certain movies that the song had been featured in. That was bizarre both because they even had an angel in the backseat, not to mention an angel that actually knew anything about American pop culture. Dean was having fun with it though, throwing out random movie quotes and cracking up when Castiel would reply with the correct movie after a mere second, not requiring any time to think about it. There was also just the knowledge that Dean was a demon that made everything a little bit more unusual, and going off towards a hunt that didn't make any sense was a lot less common for them now than it had been in the past.

Still, driving down the highway with such familiar company and such familiar music was a special treat in and of itself, no matter what else was going on. Kansas wasn't an especially scenic state, but it was better than some of their long drives through states like Texas, and Sam could appreciate the appeal of nice calm farm land.

They weren't very far down the highway before the Led Zepplin tape started protesting being plaid for the millionth time. After the third time the old and worn tape had warbled because of the thoroughly worn out tape on the cassette, Sam had finally convinced Dean to swap it out for the Huey Lewis tape buried at the bottom of the box of cassettes.

"I don't even like this crap," Dean muttered, tapping his left foot to the beat regardless. "Why do we have this tape again?"

"I think Caleb gave it to me," Sam replied, thinking back. "For my, I dunno, fourteenth birthday? It was whatever year you got so drunk you shot a tree during a party."

"Heh, yeah, you would have been fourteen. God, how do you even remember that?" Dean shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Do you remember how pissed Dad was? I thought he was going to kill me."

Sam spared a moment to be grateful they were even in a place where either of them could reference their father without Dean shutting down. "It wasn't that bad," he reassured his brother, pausing when Dean threw him a skeptical look. "Was that the time he made you scrub the interior of the car with a toothbrush?"

"No, that was before. Remember when I accidentally lost one of the machetes and the local sheriff's deputy found it behind the diner?" Dean winced at the memory.

Sam laughed out loud. "Wasn't that a town of like two hundred people? I think that incident made it to the paper!"

"It did. Dad saved a copy to show Pastor Jim. I think that was the first time I ever saw him laugh," Dean remembered, smiling slightly at that particular memory.

"For such a friendly guy, he always did seem really stern," Sam agreed. "Especially when you carved your name into the back of one of his pews."

Dean winced. "Yeah, not my finest moment. Almost as bad as the time Dad caught me cleaning the guns while I was drunk."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I remember that. Weren't you like sixteen? You weren't even supposed to touch the weapons while he was gone unless there was an emergency."

"Hey, I thought I was being helpful!" Dean protested, smiling. "Would've actually been helpful too if I hadn't been cleaning them out with lemonade."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "I think the shotgun was sticky for a few weeks."

Castiel tilted his head slightly. "I had not realized that you were such a reckless youth, Dean."

Dean made a scoffing sound. "I wasn't that bad. I was just a teenager with a lot of steam to blow off. Besides, it wasn't like Sam never did anything stupid! You almost set a library on fire once!"

"Oh no," Sam protested, "You're not blaming that on me! That was entirely your fault and you know it."

"You're the one who knocked the lighter into the stack of magazines," Dean pointed out.

"You're the one who tried to light up a cigarette in a library!" Sam reminded him, incredulous. "Totally not my fault. Not to mention I was the one who put the fire out in the first place."

"Well, smoking was never good for my health," Dean admitted, chuckling.

"I very nearly decimated a third of a South American forest in my youth," Castiel offered, seeming chagrined.

"I'm going to need a little more context there, Cas," Sam asked, corner of his mouth twitching upwards "I thought your first time to Earth was when you first came to us."

"First time in a vessel," Castiel corrected. "Most angels avoid Earth, but some like to stretch and will walk among our Father's creations. Nature is particularly beautiful in the undeveloped parts of South America."

"And you almost took out a forest how exactly?" Dean prompted, eyebrows raised.

Castiel hesitated. "In human terms, I suppose you could say I was tripped. I sort of fell and caused an earthquake. I only managed to lessen my forceful impact enough to prevent the trees from being felled."

"How the hell does an angel trip into a forest?" Dean asked, clearly amused.

There was a pregnant pause, then Castiel admitted, "It was Balthazar, attempting to be humorous."

Dean and Sam both made noises of understanding, but didn't pursue the topic. It may have been a few years, but some subjects were still sensitive.

"Well, good job not creating a Chrysler Building sized hole in the ground," Dean joked, attempting to create some levity.

Castiel's expression lit up. "That is my true size!" He exclaimed. "I remember sharing that detail with you many years ago. Given how faulty human memory can be, I am honored that you remembered."

Dean flushed and scratched his neck awkwardly. "You're welcome? I guess. It's not a big deal."

Sam grinned broadly as Dean turned the music up in an attempt to dissuade more conversation.

* * *

About an hour into the trip, Sam had his daily adrenaline surge when he had to reclaim Dean's attention after some idiot in an older looking mini van nearly sideswiped the Impala.

"YOU BASTARD!" Dean yelled out the window at the car growing steadily smaller in the rearview mirror.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed his shoulder, pulling his brother away from the window and back towards the steering wheel. He wasn't exactly surprised, but it still gave him a shock of horror and dread whenever Dean's eyes flashed black. "Just calm down, okay? They didn't actually hit the car."

"Freaking soccer moms in their stupid ass mini vans!" Dean spat, looking furious. "That bitch almost took out the whole left side of the car! Don't tell me to calm down." He kept raging under his breath for a minute, muttering to himself, eyes still black.

"Dean," Sam interrupted him, keeping his tone even. "This is the kind of thing we're trying to prevent, okay? Remember, you're trusting me to pull you back."

Blowing out all his air, Dean paused for a moment before breathing in deeply and nodding, his eyes flashing back to normal. Glancing at Sam, he nodded once. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sam said wryly, relaxing back against the passenger's seat. "Stopping you from annihilating middle aged women is kind of what I'm here for." He grinned when Dean made a face at him.

"In fairness," Dean added after a pause, smirking at his brother, "I would have been pissed if somebody hit my Baby even before I was a demon." He made a menacing face as an example, then wiggling his eyebrows and grinned.

"I believe that to be a true statement," Castiel interjected, nodding seriously.

Sam snorted. "Even if someone did hit it, you'd fix it. You've built this thing up from practically nothing way more times than should be safe." That was actually something Sam was very proud of his brother for. There were some things he never gave up on, which was an admirable trait.

"That's because I'm awesome," Dean replied, patting the dashboard lovingly.

"Is the Impala at all sentient?" Castiel asked curiously, eyeing the tape deck in speculation.

"No...?" Sam dragged out the syllable, shooting Castiel a confused look. "Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if the film The Love Bug was purely fictional, or if automobiles were actually alive." Castiel explained casually.

Dean glanced at Sam in confusion as the younger Winchester started laughing. "What's he talking about?" Dean asked.

"How've you never seen The Love Bug?" Sam asked incredulously. "I saw it when I was in..." He realized how that sentence was about to end, and changed it halfway through to avoid mentioning his school years. "When I was younger," he hastily amended. "It's about that race car that's alive and can drive itself and all that."

"Oh, you mean Herbie!" Dean suddenly recalled, eyes widening with sudden remembrance "I went to see the Lindsey Lohan one with some chick."

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, smirking when Dean rolled his eyes.

"Don't knock Lindsey Lohan!" Dean protested.

"The film Mean Girls seems to be amusing," Castiel added from the back.

Dean and Sam both turned in their seats to stare at Castiel. "Dude," Dean said incredulously, "Metatron has seen Mean Girls?"

"Yes..." Castiel replied, looking wary. "Is that significant?"

"It's freaking hilarious is what it is," Dean scoffed, turning his gaze back to the road.

Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Just please tell me we're not having a quote-along for the rest of the drive," he begged in a mocking voice.

"C'mon, Sammy!" Dean teased. "I would've thought that'd be right up your alley!"

"I've only seen it once, Dean," Sam reminded him. "You'd have to pick a movie I know better."

"Like what, High School Musical?" Dean snickered, mimicking primping his hair in a mockery of the motion Sam sometimes did to smooth it out if it was tangled.

"Okay, when I'm glued to the motel bed with the flu and you steal the freaking remote, I am not responsible for what I see on the television," Sam protested, glaring at his brother. It really had been a nasty week for him, and Dean had taken great joy in setting the television on something ridiculous, then setting the remote out of reach. For as good as his brother was at caring for him when he wasn't feeling well, he still never passed up on a chance to screw with Sam.

"The music of that film had a certain appeal," Castiel added thoughtfully.

There was another pause, then Dean and Sam were both staring at the angel again. "You're kidding right?" Dean asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No. Apparently there are three of them," Castiel continued, clearly oblivious to the source of the joke.

Dean grinned broadly, laughing when he saw the expression on Sam's face. "C'mon, dude, it's a little funny."

"It's kind of creepy," Sam countered, but he looked amused too.

"Well," Dean started, pausing slightly and smirking into the rear view mirror at Castiel. "We are all in this together."

There was a beat, during which Sam made a scoffing noise, then Castiel replied, "I understood that reference."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:**

**I really loved how much you all enjoyed the previous chapter. You guys are super encouraging, and I really appreciate it!**

**Thanks to What You See in the Shadows, Le'letha, SPN Mum, 1983Sarah, ncsupnatfan, and Vivid Escapist for their reviews on chapter 10!**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - But With The Beast Inside**

It wasn't a terribly long drive to the small farming town where their case was located, and Sam had been very thankful that the town even had a motel, though technically the motel didn't belong to the town, it just happened to be alongside the highway nearby. Still, it was convenient, and Sam was grateful. It was still early morning when they pulled in, so they wasted no time checking into a room and getting all the bags inside.

The room only had two beds, but Castiel had reminded them that he didn't actually need to sleep, and could rest perfectly comfortably in a chair if he truly felt tired from the hunt. As always, upon entering the room Dean tossed his duffel on the bed closest to the door, with Sam following behind and setting his duffel down on the second bed. They spent the next few minutes pulling out whatever they needed right away, which for Sam meant the computer.

"So, tiny farming community gets attacked by vicious kidnapping monkeys. What else do we know?" Dean peered over Sam's shoulder at the laptop, which the younger Winchester had only barely finished setting up on the one table in the motel room.

Sam swatted at his brother, missing Dean's face only by an inch or so as the older hunter dodged out of the way. "Nothing yet," Sam reminded him, annoyed. "We literally just got here. Give me some time. If you want to know more, take Cas and go interview some of the farm hands that have come back."

Dean squinted at him, confused. "I thought none of them remembered squat."

"They don't, as far as the locals have found out," Sam said pointedly. "Maybe they're pretending they don't know because they'll be safer, or maybe they do know what happened but it's locked in their heads or something. That's why I said take Cas. He might be able to pick up on stuff you can't."

"Fine, we'll give it a shot. You got a list of vics?" Dean held out his hand expectantly. Without looking up, Sam placed a print-out he'd brought from the bunker into Dean's hand and gestured vaguely towards the door in dismissal.

Dean smirked and turned to face the angel. "What do you say, Cas, want to go interview a bunch of amnesiacs?"

Clearly distracted, Castiel did not answer the question. "Something is wrong with this town."

"I'd hardly call it a town-" Dean started to say, but Sam interrupted him.

Looking up now and focused completely on Castiel, Sam asked, "What do you mean, wrong? Anything to do with the hunt, or is it something else entirely?"

"There is an active power source that does not belong." Castiel explained, clearly unaware that his explanation didn't really clear anything up. He looked very troubled, and kept furrowing his brow as if he was concentrating very hard on something.

"Meaning...?" Dean prompted, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Castiel looked frustrated. "This grace is not strong enough for me to discern what I am sensing, but it may well be a factor in your hunt."

"Our hunt, dude," Dean corrected him, throwing an arm around the angel's shoulders and pulling him towards the door. "C'mon, we'll go investigate the good old fashioned way. Sam, call if you find anything, okay?"

"Will do," Sam replied, nodding at them as his brother pulled the angel out the front door with him. Chuckling lightly, Sam turned back to the laptop. There had to be some kind of hint he could glean in all the different news reports that had come out so far. He needed way more information before he could even pretend to have a theory. After all, it was hardly as if there were actually wild monkeys attacking people. Although, Sam had to admit, stranger things had happened.

Given how small the community was, there really wasn't a lot of news about the weird things that had been happening. The only reason there had been any information about the kidnappings for Sam to find in the first place was that the paper that served the entire county was run by a relative of one of the men who had vanished. As a result, however, news coverage was very minimal. One thing Sam had been able to prove very quickly though was that there were no monkeys in the region. The closest zoo was hours away, and no animals had escaped from it. Ever. Sam checked. He wasn't sure that was the weirdest thing he'd ever looked up, but it was certainly on the list. That being confirmed though meant that whatever was going on didn't include monkeys. Despite what the county doctor who'd examine the men had theorized, there was no way the men could have been attacked by monkeys. So, what could cause scratches that could only be explained by something that was impossible in the eyes of hunters, let alone civilians?

Sighing heavily, Sam pulled up a few of his favorite research websites and started digging. He really didn't have anything of consequence to tell Dean, but if he didn't pull up anything additional in the next hour or so he was going to just call his brother and have him pick him up so he could go question people. At this point, that was probably the most helpful option.

* * *

Dean was thoroughly unimpressed with the first farm hand he and Castiel had stopped to interview. To start with, the guy was barely five foot five inches, but easily weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds. Dean's first thought was that the guy looked like he should be a bale of hay, not be rolling bales of hay around in a barn. He also seemed as though the lights were on but nobody was home. Honestly, he seemed like the kind of character that would be written into a comedy movie as the dumb overweight one. Dean wasn't used to meeting people that seemed to literally embody stereotypes, but that was pretty much exactly what this guy was.

For the third time Dean asked, "Do you remember anything about the time you were gone?" He had phrased the question in every possibly way he could think of, but the question had yet to get an enlightening response.

The farm hand, who was apparently named Joseph, but had told them to call him Joey Curls, replied, "Nope!" He didn't provide any other illuminating details, just like his responses to everything else Dean had tried to ask him.

Castiel was frowning, his brow furrowed with frustration. "Mr. Curls," he began seriously.

"Nah, tightpants, it's Joey Curls!" He replied quickly, a dopey grin on his face.

Dean rolled his eyes, gesturing for Castiel to continue what he had been about to ask.

"Joey Curls, then," Castiel said awkwardly, clearly not comfortable with the name, "It is very important that we understand where you went when you vanished, and what happened when you returned."

"Nothing," Joey Curls replied with a happy shrug. "I guess I lost a few days. No biggy, right? I'm a hard worker. Don't let the fat fool ya, I'm all muscle in here! At heart, at least." The farm hand burst into a loud barking laugh.

Dean took a deep and unnecessary breath to calm himself, squeezing the bridge of his nose to prevent the headache he felt he should have as a result of this interview.

Concerned, Castiel tilted his head at Dean. "Do you have a headache, Dean? That should not be possible. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Cas," Dean grumbled. "I know I don't have a headache, but I should, and that's pissing me off. Are we done here?"

"Sorry I couldn't be more help!" Joey Curls called to them cheerily, shrugging to himself when Dean and Castiel turned and walked off without another word.

As soon as they were out of the barn, Dean's cell phone rang, so he quickly pulled it out and answered. "Please, Sam, for the love of my sanity, please tell me you've found something helpful."

"...I take it the interviews aren't going so well?" Sam hedged awkwardly.

Dean growled incoherently, then sighed. "We've only talked to one guy so far, and he was useless. I'm about to punch something."

"Are you just irritated or are you getting into territory where I need to start being worried?" Sam asked warily.

Taking a moment to calm down, Dean shook his head, even though he knew Sam couldn't see him. "No, I'll be fine. I'm just pissed. Our victim interviews are usually just slightly more helpful. It's annoying."

"Yeah, well, all I've been able to find on this end is that the first disappearance was a few weeks ago, but they've been pretty steady every couple days or so since that first one. Maybe we should try to find local law enforcement and see if maybe they've seen anything that didn't make it into any of the reports?" Sam sighed, seeming a little discouraged with their progress.

"I don't think there's actual law enforcement out here," Dean admitted, climbing into the front seat of the Impala as Castiel climbed into the passenger's seat beside him. Dean slammed the door closed and made a thoughtful noise. "I got the impression there might be some kind of ranger type person who helps keep the peace, but the area's not big enough for an actual sheriff's office."

"It's better than nothing," Sam pointed out. "Swing by and pick me up? We have to do something, and it sounds like interviewing the victims wasn't helpful. Although we may want to try more than one before we call it quits on that particular avenue."

"You can take the next one then," Dean said firmly. "I'm not talking to another freaking jolly freaking marshmallow."

"That's not even a thing," Sam informed with amusement, noise in the background suggesting he was getting ready to go. "How far from the motel are you?"

"We'll be by to grab you in ten," Dean told him, starting the engine and turning down the radio so he could still hear Sam.

"Sounds good. I'll be ready. You want me to get your suit too?" Ruffling fabric in the background implied Sam was getting changed.

"I'll just run in and change," Dean replied, putting the car in gear and pulling back onto the road. "See you in a few." He closed the phone, slipping it back into his pocket and sighing.

"That was frustrating," Castiel said after a moment of quiet. The angel didn't have a great deal of experience hunting with Sam and Dean, but the hunts he had done with them had been very different than this one so far.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. Sam wants to talk to what passes for police around here and see if they're any better. We may try some of the other victims later, but I'm not in the mood for that right now."

"Understandable," Castiel allowed. "Never fear, Dean, I am sure we will discover what is happening here. Although, somehow I am quite sure it is more complicated then it seems."

"Fantastic," Dean muttered. He pressed on the gas and took another unnecessary deep breath. Hopefully the rest of the day would be more productive. He had wanted a hunt, but this wasn't really what he'd had in mind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:**

**Again, guys, thank you so much for the encouragement. I'm hoping to up my posting schedule a bit, but for now I'm at least sticking to one chapter a week, and you guys are really supportive, which is super helpful.**

**Thanks to SPN Mum, What You See in the Shadows, WordSmith67, 1983Sarah, and ncsupnatfan for their reviews on chapter 11!**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - There's Nowhere We Can Hide**

"RUN!" Dean yelled at the top of his lungs, his eyes flat black and his head craned back to make sure his younger brother was obeying the instruction as Dean himself booked it down the field, trampling some kind of plant as he ran. He didn't know what it was and he didn't care.

"I AM!" Sam raged back at him, managing to look annoyed and panicked at the same time. "CAN'T YOU DO SOMETHING?"

"LIKE WHAT?" Dean threw back, incredulous. "DAMMIT, SAM, I'M A DEMON, NOT A ZOOKEEPER!"

"VERY FUNNY," Sam called out, his tone less urgent as he began to close the gap between himself and his brother, both of them still looking over their shoulder at the quickly encroaching enemy.

"Dude," Dean wasn't quite out of breath, given his supernatural status, but he was tired and frustrated, which was evident in his tone. With Sam closer, at least, yelling wasn't quite as necessary. He still had to speak more loudly than usual. "How the hell am I supposed to fight a monkey?"

"I don't know!" Sam protested, raising his eyebrows at Dean. "You're the one with the fancy superpowers!" He gestured towards Dean's still black eyes as proof.

"Demon, Sam," Dean reiterated, glancing back at the screeching monkey once again and picking up the pace. "I'm not some comic book hero with magical animal controlling powers!"

Sam rolled his eyes, huffing as he struggled to keep up with the annoyingly supernatural strength his brother was exhibiting. Sam was strong, very strong, but he was reluctantly willing to admit that Dean was physically superior what with being a demon and all. Of course, being a demon was probably cheating, so technically Dean wasn't stronger. Either way, Sam was panting and Dean wasn't. Not fair. "Just do something about it!" Sam bit out, exasperated.

Dean whirled around suddenly, waving an arm towards the steadily gaining monkey with one swift motion. A wave of dirt burst out of the field and slammed into the screeching animal with a massive force, knocking it down and burying it almost immediately.

Sam came to a halt, turning to go back to Dean's side. "Did that work?" He gasped out.

"It stopped chasing after us and screaming, so I'm going to go with yes," Dean snarked, but he blinked and his eyes returned to his normal green.

Sam always felt a sense of relief whenever Dean's eyes went back to normal. The bursts of un-Dean like behavior he had so far had to handle were always tempered by the relative sameness his brother exhibited more often than not. The eyes helped Sam continue to believe Dean was going to stay Dean.

Dean was over by the mound of dirt now, poking at the dirt with his toes, looking at it distastefully. "Did I kill it?" He asked doubtfully.

"I don't think so, but you should check. I've never seen a monkey run like that. It was freakishly fast. Speaking of which, did your intro to demonic powers manual teach you how to Earth Bend or something?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean looked up from the dirt he had crouched next to, clearly confused. "How to what?" He asked, bewilderment obvious in his tone.

Sam sighed. "Never mind. The dirt wave, or whatever. Can you like legitimately manipulate the elements?"

Making a face at his brother, Dean replied skeptically, "I don't think I can create tornadoes or make it rain, dude."

"But you can throw a truck load of dirt at a homicidal monkey?" Sam asked expectantly.

"You know the telekinesis stuff?" Dean asked, sighing as though resigned to having to explain.

"Uh-huh," Sam prompted.

"Same concept, but more power. I'm still just moving things with my mind, I'm just putting more force behind it. Less, 'oh, that's freaky' and more of the actual weapon type crap we've had to deal with from demons before." Dean dug through the dirt warily, trying not to inadvertently release the wild monkey he had buried.

Sam shrugged. "All right, fair enough. I'm just trying to keep a running tally here of all the things you can do now."

"I can also still score a date in far less time than you, drink you under the table, and drive the Impala way better than you do on any given day," Dean pointed out with a self satisfied smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You can also still peel paint off the walls with the amount of onions you put on everything," he added wryly. Not that he was complaining. Things that didn't change were the best reassurance he had right now.

"Ha, there you are!" Dean crowed, ignoring the snark from his brother in favor of the monkey. "Dunno if it's alive, but it's definitely unconscious at a minimum."

Sam re-positioned himself to help pull the monkey out, wincing at a jarring movement, but relaxing when the monkey didn't wake up. As soon as the dirt fell away, however, Sam almost dropped the animal. "What the hell."

"Stole the words right out of my mouth," Dean griped, staring wide eyed at the monkey. "Did you notice that when it was chasing us?"

Sam made a face at his brother. "No, oddly enough the vicious screaming monkey chasing me was kind of distracting. I didn't exactly give it an exam."

To be honest, the monkey had kind of come out of nowhere. They had gone to visit the local law enforcement earlier that day, coming away mostly empty handed, except for Castiel. The angel had been certain some force was affecting the town, but couldn't determine the source. They had let him loose to do his own research, electing to go try and interview more victims. The first was a strong young woman who worked in irrigation, and while she was clearly more intelligent than the first victim Dean had talked to, she didn't remember anything helpful. The second was another man, about Dean's height with a build that matched the hard labor he was doing. He didn't know anything either, but they had been leaving that interview when the monkey had pretty much appeared out of nowhere.

One minute Sam had been making a comment about the memory loss of the victims, and the next there had been a screaming monkey launching itself off the side of a barn towards them. Dean only barely caught sight of it in time, grabbing Sam's wrist and jerking his younger brother into a run, both of them bolting across the field.

"Damn thing's got wings," Dean complained. "Seriously, wings?"

"What I want to know is why it wasn't flying after us," Sam pointed out. "Surely that would be faster and more effective, especially if this is what's taking people."

"Well, the wing is kind of bent on this side," Dean mused, examining the still unconscious creature. "Maybe that's why it was here. Somehow it got damaged, so it couldn't get back to wherever it's supposed to be in time."

"I guess that's as good a guess as any," Sam agreed, examining the monkey more closely. It was larger than an average monkey, with vicious looking teeth and its face frozen in a snarl regardless of the fact that it wasn't even awake. "This is beyond disturbing though."

"You're telling me," Dean grunted, sighing heavily. "I mean, really, flying monkeys?! What the hell?!"

Sam froze, the phrasing jolting his memory in such a way that he felt like an idiot for not already putting the pieces together. He smacked Dean's shoulder, gesturing towards the monkey. "Dude, Charlie!"

"What-" Dean looked confused for a split second before his eyes widened and he matched Sam's expression of comprehension. "Charlie! Dude, we have to find Cas. That's got to be what he's sensing - somehow there's a portal in this place." He paused, then snickered.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked, his expression reflecting his inner confusion. He wasn't really sure what to do with the revelation. An open portal to Oz didn't necessarily mean they were going to find Charlie and Dorothy, and it clearly meant something bad was happening if the evil monkeys were any indication.

"C'mon, man, we're in a tiny farming town in Kansas and there's an open portal to Oz," Dean explained as though it was obvious. "It's a little ironic."

"That's not what irony..." Sam trailed off and rolled his eyes. "Never mind. We need to get back to the motel and find Cas. What do we do with the monkey?"

"No idea," Dean admitted, examining it again. "It's alive, I think, but we're not exactly set up to keep animals captive."

Sam winced at the thought. "No kidding. Maybe we can lock it in the bathroom?"

Dean gave him a look, raising one eyebrow with amusement. "You really want to deal with it when it wakes up, starts screaming, and you have to piss?"

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender and rolled his eyes. "Fine, you got a better idea?"

"Yeah, we find the damn portal, shove the monkey back into it, and find a way to block it up or something before the thing wakes up." Dean looked satisfied with that plan, smiling to himself.

Sam suddenly snapped his fingers, gesturing back towards where they'd come. "The barn where we talked to that girl, the first victim we talked to, wasn't there a dog kennel in the barn?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean recalled, deflating slightly. "That could work."

Huffing a laugh, Sam held out a hand and tugged Dean to his feet, making sure that his brother had a secure grip on the monkey. "Don't worry, your plan was more badass. I'd just rather we had a back up plan in case we aren't able to save Kansas before the monkey wakes up, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes and passed the monkey to Sam, who barely got a grip before the creature could fall. "Fine, but I'm not driving back to that barn with an unconscious monkey in my lap. You hold it."

* * *

Castiel had experienced many vast and varied things in the time he had spent on Earth, many of which he was aware had been far from what could be considered normal experiences. However, seeing Sam and Dean walk into a motel room carrying a travel dog kennel with an unconscious winged monkey inside was something even he could tell was abnormal.

"So I see the interviews resulted in some progress," Castiel commented, leaning back in the chair and glancing to the Winchesters expectantly.

Dean chuckled, wiping his hands on his slacks as soon as he and Sam had set the heavy crate down. He had almost forgotten he was still in his Fed suit, and now that he had remembered he really wanted back into something comfortable. He snagged a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, heading towards the bathroom. "You could say that. I'm going to get out of the monkey suit. Sam, fill him in." He paused when Sam smirked at his wording and pointed a finger at his brother firmly. "Not a word."

Sam sighed in amusement and pulled up the chair across from Castiel, shrugging off the suit jacket as he did so. "Well, we figured out the cause of your mysterious power source."

"What is it?" Castiel asked eagerly, leaning forward immediately at the promise of information.

"Somehow, there's an open portal to Oz in this area. It's letting through the flying monkeys, which are then abducting people for some reason and bringing them back without memories. That's about as much as we've got so far." Sam ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed again, this time wearily. "Anything you think might help?"

Castiel looked bewildered. "How could a portal to such a restricted dimension as Oz have opened in such a place as this? It is very complicated to open portals to other dimensions, but Oz is a part of Avalon, the most restricted of all. There are very limited ways to access such places."

Dean walked out of the bathroom at that, shrugging on a blue plaid shirt over the black t-shirt on his way over to Sam and Castiel. "So you already know about Oz, then. What can you tell us that we don't know yet?"

Sam stood as Dean returned, moving to copy his brother in changing out of the Fed suit. As he disappeared into the bathroom, Castiel made a thoughtful noise.

"Well, what do you already know?" Castiel asked curiously. "I am surprised you are aware of Oz at all, honestly. It is hardly as though the dimensions that Avalon consists of have much interaction with Earth."

"I've actually been to Avalon, Cas," Dean pointed out. "Plus, Sam and I've got a friend in Oz right now. We kind of had the Wicked Witch of the West show up in the bunker a little while back."

Castiel blinked at him, then nodded slowly, glancing at Sam as the younger Winchester re-entered the room. "I see. Well, in that case, I suppose my counsel will not be largely new information. I can, however, theorize that the monkeys are stealing the people for a being that lives off of the energy from memories. It is not uncommon for such creatures to exist in the various realms of Avalon. How they managed to come through to Earth, I can only guess, and right now I do not have a good guess." Castiel looked disappointed in himself for not having an answer.

"Hey, a theory is a start," Sam reassured him. "I guess that means that the monkeys aren't technically hurting anyone, right? I mean, these people are being returned with amnesia and some scratches, but they're otherwise fine. Does that mean whatever in Oz is feeding off them is maybe not an actual villain?"

"Too much of that particular type of feeding can result in the victim losing their sense of consciousness," Castiel informed them solemnly. "If any of these victims are taken more than twice, I would say they would indeed be in grave danger."

Dean sighed heavily and nodded. "Okay, so we shut down the portal. Now we just have to find the damn thing and figure out where the hell it came from to begin with."

Castiel brightened and he stood, looking pleased. "I may be able to help with that."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks to Le'letha, WordSmith67, LordOfTheSuperwhomerlockians, SPN Mum, TARDISbluu, ncsupnatfan, and What You See in the Shadows for their reviews on chapter 12!**

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**Chapter 13 - No Matter What We Breed**

It turned out that, although Castiel had no idea how the portal had opened in the first place, he did have a sense of where the source of the portal was located. Not a very strong sense, considering he'd had to wander through the entire tiny farming town tracing after the faint trace of power he had detected when they'd come into town initially. Still, it was better than nothing, so the Winchesters decided to follow the angel back into town to try and hunt down the power source.

"So what happens if the monkey wakes up while we're gone?" Sam asked, tucking himself into the passenger's seat of the Impala as Dean jumped in and started the engine.

"The manager of this place gets his most interesting complaint ever," Dean replied with a grin, winking when Sam gave him a look. What, was it his fault that their animal captive had a tendency to scream bloody murder when it was awake?

"What I cannot understand," Castiel interrupted from the backseat, "is how the portal came to be open." His face was pensive, and he appeared very perplexed by the problem.

"Last time there was a magic key thingy," Dean answered, backing out of the parking lot and getting back on the road into the very small center of town.

"There are various keys that can open portals, but no portal to Avalon can be opened by accident," Castiel insisted.

Sam perked up, turning to face the angel. "So you're saying someone did this on purpose," he summarized.

"Essentially," Castiel agreed. "We are missing something important." The fact that Castiel did not know all the details of such a bizarre situation did not sit well with him, especially considering how much power would have been necessary to activate a portal, especially without it causing more problems than it already had. Portals didn't tend to be especially stable unless they were operated either very briefly or with a certain amount of skill the average human definitely wouldn't possess. He had gleaned from the brief explanation he'd had of the Winchesters' last encounter with Oz that the portal had not been open very long, which explained why so little had gone wrong. How the town they were in now had survived so long with an active portal was beyond him, and he disliked not understanding what was happening.

Sam made a thoughtful noise and leaned back in the seat. "Well, can you close the portal if we find what opened it in the first place?"

"It's possible, but I will not know for sure until I actually see whatever it was that was used to open it." Castiel looked frustrated by that, but didn't otherwise comment.

"All right, Cas, so where is the signal or whatever the strongest?" Dean asked, glancing in the rear view mirror to catch Castiel's eye.

"The library was where I felt it the most," Castiel replied firmly, confident in his answer.

In all fairness, it wasn't really a library. Sam had made note of it when they first came into town, but hadn't made any plans to visit, since it wasn't very big. Basically it was just a little building with about two shelves worth of books that were rotated every two weeks by a mobile librarian who served three different little towns in the area. The smaller libraries would be supported by the closest major library, which was still about an hour away, and the books rotated enough for the people who lived in the area to visit if they wanted new reading material. Sam liked the idea, but in the same way he liked he idea of anything charming and small town normal. He had grown away from his former desires for a normal life too much to really dream about having something like a small town library, but he still appreciated the appeal.

Dean's reaction was more of a derisive snort. "What, they call this a library?" He asked as they pulled into one of the three parking spaces in front of the building. "It's the size of a Port-A-Potty."

"Don't be crass," Sam hushed him. To Castiel he asked, "Where now, Cas? Are we in the right spot?"

"Maybe," was all the angel said, climbing out the car and moving forwards towards the door of the building.

Dean's estimation wasn't quite right. If the building was being measured in portable toilets, then it was at least the size of three, but even still, it was far too cramped for three grown men. There were two shelves, a small desk, and clip board for people to sign their names and the book they'd taken.

"What are we looking for?" Sam asked quietly, glancing at Castiel for instruction.

The angel frowned, then suddenly knelt down where he stood, picking at the carpet. "It is here," he declared, managing to get a grip on a corner of carpeting and pull it up, revealing a floor compartment.

"Huh, cool. Do you think this is where they hide the bones of people who bring their books back late?" Dean asked with a grin, catching Sam's eye and wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt it. You realize that if librarians did stuff like that then you would no longer be here to tell the tale, right?"

Dean snorted, but didn't reply. He hadn't been much of a reader in a while, but as a teenager he'd enjoyed checking out the odd science fiction title from time to time. When he was old enough to help out their father on hunts he had needed to set aside the reading for the most part. Sam was right though; Dean had always been terrible at remembering to actually take books back to the library, whether they were his own or ones he'd gotten for Sam when Sam was too young to go by himself.

Castiel was ignoring them both completely, staring in surprise at the small compartment he had so far been unable to open. He couldn't imagine that he had stumbled upon something so important by mere accident. Surely the world was not so cooperative. Taking a breath, he decided it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario he was wrong, although he strongly suspected he wasn't. With a tone of complete bewilderment, he hesitantly said, "_Pireda_."

"What's that?" Dean demanded immediately, starting slightly when the compartment popped open without any further struggle from Castiel.

"Enochian," Sam replied, eyes wide. "Cas, what's going on?"

"This is one of the things Metatron hid away in his vaults," Castiel explained absently, reaching into the compartment and pulling out a solid block of what looked like wood, though it had at some point been painted bright gold. "The Enochian is the key to unlock the vaults."

"Is that how you found it?" Sam asked curiously. "Do his vaults have some kind of power that draws you to them?"

"No," Castiel replied, sounding puzzled. "I was testing a theory, I suppose you could say. The power I felt is because this has been activated. It is a sort of master key, for lack of a more appropriate term. It could open any number of portals, should Heaven need them. I do not know why it chose Oz, but at the moment I am more concerned about the fact that it is active at all. The last vault of Metatron that I opened was completely ordinary. The object within, though powerful, was completely concealed. Nobody should have known this was here. Without the draw of the portal, I would not have known it was here either. It was activated remotely, by something far more powerful than I."

Sam and Dean were both quiet, absorbing that. After a beat, it was Dean who spoke up. "Okay, so we have another mystery to solve. Wonderful. Can you shut the damn thing off?"

Castiel sighed loudly and stood, still cradling the golden block of wood in his hands as if it was far more delicate than it appeared. "I can try, but it would require a lot of power I do not have in great supply."

"Then we need another way to shut it down," Sam replied immediately, Dean nodding along with him in complete agreement. "We're not risking you just to solve a hunt."

"This is not an ordinary hunt!" Castiel retorted, glaring at Sam. "What if something goes wrong? Have the two of you ever shut down a portal to another dimension before?"

Dean and Sam had a complete silent conversation for a moment before Dean managed to reply. "I don't think so." Before Castiel could interrupt, he added, "Still doesn't mean we're going to risk you draining your power out in order to close the portal. Don't worry about it. We can do this. We've done worse."

"Definitely worse, but not weirder," Sam pointed out. He was hard pressed to think of anything more odd than discovering that The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz had been based on reality.

Dean shrugged. "Debatable." He raised an eyebrow at Sam and just said, "Plucky's comes to mind."

"Oh God," Sam replied, eyes going wide. "Point taken."

Castiel stared at them for a moment. "I do not believe you are taking this seriously."

Dean sighed heavily and stepped forward, putting his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "Dude, we'll be fine. Go hide the pretty portal block in Heaven, and we'll shut down the portal here."

Castiel made a face in response. "Fine. Where is the portal?"

"We'll have to find it," Dean replied, not missing a beat.

Continuing on, Castiel asked, "What do you think the potential danger could be of taking an active portal key into Heaven while the portal in question is still open?"

Pausing briefly, Dean was forced to admit, "No idea."

"So, perhaps it would be wise to not dismiss the only agent of Heaven you have until you have a better grasp on the situation," Castiel said wryly, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

Sighing, Dean rolled his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides. "Fine, Cas, you win. Is it safe to just carry that thing around?"

"It should be no more dangerous then it was while sitting in this compartment," Castiel confirmed. "Besides, it may be useful in locating wherever the portal has manifested."

"Okay, question about that," Sam interjected. "When the key we had before for Oz itself was used, the portal was pretty freaking big, like impossible to miss. How have this many people, especially with so many of them having vanished, completely missed something that big?"

Castiel made a curious noise. "You raise a good point, Sam. Perhaps this portal is somehow being triggered to open off an on. Always active, but not always open. I am certain it was opened from our dimension, but maybe it is now being controlled from within Oz. Given what we know about the situation, it is not too far fetched to assume our enemy is very intelligent."

"So this portal may not even be visible half the time?" Dean asked, groaning. "How the hell do we find it then?"

"Now that we actually have the key, I will be able to find it far more easily," Castiel reassured him. "Once we find it, however, then we have to find a way to close it permanently, which I fear will not be straightforward."

"I don't suppose Oz has cell service," Dean griped, running a hand through his hair and making a disgruntled noise when he realized it was still too long. As they walked out of the library, he turned to Sam and added quietly, "Dude, please remind me to cut my hair when we get back to the bunker. This is ridiculous."

Chuckling, Sam nodded his agreement, following his brother out of the cramped space and back out to the car. "You're right though, this would be so much easier if we could just call Charlie."

"Somehow I don't think they have cell towers in Oz," Dean sighed. "Although, if anybody was going to get WiFi and cell service going in Oz, it would probably be Charlie."

Sam laughed. "You're right, she would." As they reached the car, he glanced back at Castiel and asked, "Any idea where we need to go?"

There was a long pause, then Castiel nodded slowly. "West," he said firmly.


End file.
